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Scientific and other Terms, nujmrous Familiar 
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^ Words^ by the 

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FBtNK F.i0VELLiC0.:i42-m Worth St 



THAT OTHER WOMAN 


BY 




ANNIE THOMAS 




Author of “CALLED TO ACCOUNT,'’ Etc., Etc. 



NEW YORK 

FRANK F. LOVELL & COMPANY 

142 AND 144 Worth Street 


. . 




t 


,c^rdT 


Copyright, 1889, 

BY 

JOHN W. LOVELl«c 




^ 9 - 




THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


CHAPTER 1. 

INTRODUCES MR. PHILLIPPS-TWYSDEN. 

‘‘Violet, not even to please you, will I ever give another 
ball. Where my own house ends and Elkington begins, I 
can no more tell than I can say what has become of the 
lost tribe of Israel.” 

“That shows how beautifully ifs done, mamma dear.’^ 

“ Oh ! it’s all very well for you to say that and to gene- 
rally take it easy, you monkey,” the mother said, with 
pretended impatience ; “ but, remember, the responsibility 
of sorting ourselves to-morrow rests on me to a great extent. 
If all things are not in place by nine o’clock to-morrow 
morning, your father will be in what Jackson calls one of 
his ‘ poor tempers.’ ” 

“ Everything will be in place,” Miss Grove replied, in 
her most definite tone. “ Everything always is in place 
when you will it so, mamma. Just come and look at my 
dress before you go to your own room, that will comfort 
you and recompense you for all your trouble.” 

The graceful, gazelle-eyed, sleek, dark-haired twenty- 
years-old daughter of the house clasped her arms round 
her handsome mother’s waist coaxingly as she spoke, and 
the mother remembered the days of her youth, and threw 
aside all pretence of dissatisfaction. 

“You duck!” she said, fondly, “I’m glad the dress 
pleases you, but I’ve no time to look at it till it’s on you. 


4 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


Vi ! I’m late already, and if I’am not down to receive the 
inevitable too early guest, Lady Halford will get hold of 
the fact and retail it to my social disadvantage. How that 
woman hates us, to be sure ! ” 

What does it matter? ” Violet asked scornfully, as she 
went up the broad staircase by her mother’s side. 

It matters this,” Mrs. Grove answered sharply. Her 
son has eighty thousand a year, one of the eldest baronet- 
cies, and is much under his mother’s thumb.” 

Again I ask, ‘ What does it matter? ’ ” said Miss Violet, 
tossing her handsome little head ; and her mother, pausing 
at her dressing-room door, answered : 

‘Ht matters everything to me, Vi, that Lady Halford 
should find no flaw in either of us to-night, for I’ve set my 
heart on your succeeding her. You know Sir Lionel likes 
you ; you may turn the liking into something else to-night 
if you’re careful, and you don’t care for anyone else.” 

“ No — nor for him either — he looks like a squashed 
duck,” said Violet, laughing. But though she said this 
she remembered her mother’s words vividly all the time 
she was dressing, and when she went down to the brilliantly- 
lighted, magnificently-decorated ball-room, which had risen 
as if by magic during the day, she was well disposed to 
meet that fate half-way which could make her a baronet’s 
wife with eighty thousand a year ! 

She’s not a beauty, but she’s preeminently graceful 
and distinguished. My mother can’t help approving of 
her style.” 

This was what Sir Lionel Halford said to Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden as the two men — after (fining together and look- 
ing in for an hour or two at a Shakesperian revival at the 
Lyceum, in which Ellen Terry excelled herself in the 
matters of dress and dementia, as Ophelia ” — were being 
whirled at midnight towards The Grove Ball ” in Hyde 
Park Gardens. 

And it goes without saying that Miss Grove will pose 
at her best for your sake before Lady Halford ? ” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


5 


Phillipps-Twysden asked this question with a scarcely 
perceptible sneer which the other man half suspected, but 
was not quite sure of. 

“It goes without saying, Twysden, that Miss Grove is 
not a girl to be chafed about, or to speculate about. I 
haven’t the faintest reason to suppose for a moment that 
she’d accept me. But I’m as clear gone on her as a fellow 
can be, and I want my mother to like her.” 

“ I seem to know something of Mrs. Grove,” Phillipps- 
Twysden said, lazily. “ She’s a plucky, high-spirited, clever 
sort of woman ; first-rate amateur actress, recitationist, 
and all that sort of thing, isn’t she ? ” 

“ One of our best amateur actresses, I believe,” Sir Lionel 
replied. 

“Ah ! so I’ve heard ; delightful mother-in-law she’ll be ; 
an unfailing tap of entertainment to turn on when you 
have Halford full of more or less bored people at Christmas 
and Easter.” 

His remarks were cut short by the brougham being 
pulled up with a jerk at the carpeted entrance to the 
brilliantly-illuminated house. And five minutes afterwards 
Sir Lionel Halford was introducing his friend, Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden, for whom he had taken the liberty of asking for 
a card of invitation, to his beaming, gracious, handsome 
hostess, Mrs. Grove. 

The introduction over, the two men fell back to make 
room for others, and as they stood for a minute with their 
backs against a tapestried wall, their portraits may be 
briefly painted in black and white. 

Sir Lionel Halford, a short, rather stout young man, 
with a round, plain, hairless face of very rosy hue, sur- 
mounted by dosely-cropped yellow hair, was not exactly 
the man at first sight to strike a young girl’s fancy. But 
if a young girl had been wise she would have read his good- 
ness and truth, his integrity and honorableness in every 
line of that candid unsullied visage, in every glance of the 


6 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


frank, steady, clear blue eyes. And even if he had not 
been a baronet with £ 80,000 a year, she would have pre- 
ferred him to the distinguished-looking man who lounged 
by his side. 

Unfortunately, young girlhood, if it is not mercenary, 
is apt to be incautious and indiscriminating. Violet was 
attracted by Mr. Phillipps-Twysden as soon as she saw 
him, even before he had laid himself out to please and 
dazzle her. He was a fine man, carrying himself like a 
soldier ; and he was a good-looking man, with a square, 
strong face, and clever, determined grey eyes. There was 
no semi-effeminate soft seductiveness about him. He 
looked bold and strong and clever. His style was excel- 
lent, and when he spoke his voice completed the charm. 
It was a voice whose tones had the real true ring of man- 
liness in them, Violet felt convinced. Other men might 
have softer, fuller, richer, more musical voices, but this 
man’s had a compelling power about it that aroused her 
attention and delighted her ear. 

When he was introduced to her and asked her to dance, 
she looked up with a flash of pleasure in her eyes which she 
made no attempt to conceal. And Sir Lionel, standing 
by, saw the pleased expression, grasped the meaning of it, 
and lost a shade of that rosy hue which usually adorned 
his face. He watched the pair as Phillipps-Twysden led 
the girl off ; watched with an anxious, almost sad look on 
his face that was very foreign to it, and that struck more 
than one on-looker, giving them the clue to the state of his 
feelings. 

Sir Lionel had never made sure of the girl he loved. 
He had never done her the wrong of supposing that 
she would marry him for his title and money if she 
were quite indifferent to him. But there had been times 
during the present season when he had fancied that 
she was not indifferent to him. More than this, by reason 
of his mother’s constant hints and innuendoes and sneers 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


1 


about Miss Grove,” he had been inspired with a certain 
amount of confidence. Lady Halford broadly asserted 
that “ Miss Grove was trying her hardest to catch him,” 
and he had grown to hope this was the case, though his 
eyes and heart were never gladdened by witnessing any of 
her attempts in that direction. 

Altogether, he had been chaffed, and warned, and cau- 
tioned into a rather sanguine spirit, and, as he had hinted 
to his friend Phillipps-Twysden, he had resolved to try his 
fate with Violet that night. It made him feel a little sad 
and sore, therefore, when Violet turned from him after the 
briefest recognition and greeting, and allowed her eyes and 
manner to tell the tale of the gratification and pleasure 
she experienced in looking at, and listening to, his attrac- 
tive friend. 

For Violet Grove was not a coquette. The love-stricken 
baronet did not do her the injustice for a moment of 
! thinking that she was feigning to retreat in order that he 
might pursue more ardently. 

She’s taken with him. I wish I hadn’t been ass 
I enough to bring him ! ” he was saying to himself, when he 
I felt a sharp tap from a fan on his shoulder, and looking 
round, found himself face to face with his mother. 

I ' She was a vivacious little lady, with bright dark eyes, a 
thin hooked nose, and nice white hair that she wore raised 
high from her forehead in a way that was intended to 
suggest a resemblance someone had once discovered in 
her to Marie Antoinette. Sir Lionel was her only son, and 
she prized him highly, both as the fifteenth baronet and as 
her own dear only boy. She prized him highly, and loved 
him dearly, and gave all her best energies and the greater 
part of her time to the task of keeping him out of the 
clutches of ineligible young women. 

During the last three months, Violet Grove had been 
her ladyship’s heaviest cross and special aversion, and this 
not because of anything detrimental in Violet’s manner, or 


8 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


looks, or family, or position ; but simply because she 
wanted a duke^s daughter for her son ! — she whose father 
had been a pork merchant, and who had known no higher 
ambition than to marry his manager till her Marie An- 
toinette-like beauty had fascinated a baronet’s son at a ball 
at the Mansion House. 

But that was then ! this was now ! Lady Halford had 
almost forgotten this pork-valetier, and quite identified 
herself, as became a good wife, with the noble stock into 
which she had married. A duke’s daughter was ready and 
waiting for Lionel, thanks to his mother’s unremitting 
endeavors ! This being the case, it is no wonder that she 
could almost have slain Violet Grove with the fan with 
which she tapped her son’s shoulder as she marked his 
face fall as Violet walked off with Phillipps-Twysden. 

‘‘ What a handsome pair ; ” she murmured, admiringly, 
as she followed her son’s sorrowful glance after Violet. 

Don’t they look well ! ” he said quickly. ‘‘ Wouldn’t 
she look well anywhere ? ” 

Old Lady Halford put her glass in her eye and peered 
after Violet Grove. 

She’s a stylish girl, undoubtedly,” she said, pleasantly, 
‘‘ holds herself well, and has a pretty smile ! I don’t 
think Mr. Phillipps-Twysden can do better.” 

Old Lady Halford said all this in her kindest and most 
motherly manner. Her son had no reasonable grounds of 
offence with her ; nevertheless, her words and the way she 
said them, vexed him sorely. Why should she see some- 
thing in Violet’s manner towards Phillipps-Twysden that 
he would not wish her to see in the manner of the girl he 
loved? What was there to see? Nothing! He turned 
and smiled straight in his mother’s eyes as he replied : 

I don’t think Phillipps-Twysden will do so well. She’s 
a dear girl. Mother, if I bring her to you as your 
daughter to night, you’ll give her a kind welcome, won’t 
you ?/’ 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


9 


I and dance,” his mother said, shaking her head 

' reprovingly ; you’ve been dining ; go and dance, and, 
by-and-bye, bring Mr. Phillipps-Twysden to me. I like to 
talk to him. I like him better than most of your friends. 
If you can detach him from Miss Grove bring him to me.” 

Then Lady Halford sauntered on to say a few words in 
season to her hostess ; and Sir Lionel, as the Blue Hun- 
garians clashed out the last bars of the waltz, went off to 
' claim Violet for the next dance. 

Mrs. Grove, looking very handsome and very happy, 
was still hard at work doing her duty of receiving as Lady 
|i Halford joined her. There was a confidential air about 
|: her ladyship, and a meaning smile on her lips that caused 
! Mrs. Grove involuntarily to prepare herself for something 
I' unpleasant. Lady Halford’s first words, however, seemed 
I harmless enough. 

j ^*1 have just been saying to my son that your daughter 
quite outshines every other girl in the room,” Lady Hal- 
ford murmured, not too veraciously. 

‘‘I am glad you think so,” Mrs. Grove said heartily, 
feeling almost disarmed. 

‘‘ Oh ! I assure you, there can’t be two opinions about 
it. Miss Grove and Mr. Phillipps-Twysden are a most 
striking pair. Have you known him long? ” 

Sir Lionel brought him here for the first time to- 
night.” 

The first time. Indeed ! I think I shall soon have to 
congratulate you, Mrs. Grove ! I never saw such a 
complete case at first sight 1 Lionel and I were watching 
them just now, and we were quite amazed. Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden makes no attempt to conceal his admiration and 
devotion.” 

‘‘Indeed! to whom?” Mrs. Grove interrupted coldly. 
She had allowed herself to be disarmed too soon, and now 
she was sharply wounded. Sir Lionel amazed at witness- 
ing another man’s devotion to, and admiration for Violet I 
It was crushing 1 


lo 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


Why, to your daughter, of course, ” Lady Halford 
laughed. And I consider it quite a matter of con- 
gratulation, I assure you ! Such a very superior man, so 
cultivated and intellectual, and all that sort of thing, and 
the very soul of integrity and honor. If I had a daughter 
I should aspire to no higher lot for her than to see her the 
wife of such a man.” 

Mrs. Grove drew herself up and looked down command- 
ingly and scornfully on the widow of the baronet. 

You are an injudicious partisan,” she said coolly. 
‘‘ You plead a wholly imaginary cause, and are very 
premature in your congratulations. However, I have no 
doubt you will be one of the first to know of my daughter’s 
engagement when it does take place.” 

She turned her head aside to speak to someone else 
when she had said those last words, with the conviction 
that in uttering them she had revenged herself for the 
wound Lady Halford had given her a few minutes pre- 
viously. As she did so Violet passed her on Sir Lionel’s 
arm on their way from the ball-room. He was speaking 
very earnestly, and Violet was listening with an expression 
of mingled gravity and embarrassment on her face. 

Mrs. Grove’s heart gave a thump of exultation. 

He is proposing to her this minute ! His mother will 
regret having wasted her ill-natured words on me present- 
ly,” she thought, and more than one of her guests saw 
the smile of triumph which flashed across her face at the 
thought, and fathomed the reason of it. 

Meanwhile, Sir Lionel had led Violet to a sheltered seat 
behind a group of huge palms in the conservatory, and 
there, sorely against her will, she had to listen to words 
that she would have given much to have saved him from 
uttering. 

All that he said need not be recorded. Though, indeed, 
his words were not many, they were thoroughly to the 
point. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


ir 


I’m not worthy of you — no one can feel that more 
strongly than I do, Violet — but I love you like my life.” 

Oh, I’m so sorry, so sorry ! ” she broke in, pray, pray 
don’t say another word. Sir Lionel ; you have done me 
a great honor, but I can’t accept it, and I’m wretched.” 

‘‘ Is it ” (and his voice broke as he asked it) some 
other fellow ? ” 

“ I can’t tell you, don’t ask me anything ; let me go 
back, and forgive me. Sir Lionel.” 


CHAPTER 11. 

‘‘if he were the baronet I SHOULD STILL SAY THE SAME ! ” 

When Violet escaped from Sir Lionel, he, with his ears 
still tingling with the smarting sound of her unqualified 
and unexpected rejection, made his escape from the house 
as soon as possible, without attempting to take leave of 
anyone. 

The rooms were by that time so crowded that his 
departure was not noticed, nor his presence missed even 
by the two who were most powerfully interested in him, 
namely, his own mother and Violet’s. But Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden soon became conscious of the fact of his friend 
having gone, and, correctly enough, associated that cir- 
cumstance with Violet’s pale face and red eyes. 

From that moment he sought her more assiduously than 
before, for every bit of small ambition within him was 
roused into activity by the desire to conquer where Hal- 
ford had failed. So he tried to throw all the subduing 
influence of which he was possessed into the grey eyes and 
decided flexible eyebrows that enabled him to exercise 
facial expression with such consummate skill. 

But though he had already made up his mind that Violet 
Grove should be his wife, he had too great a sense of pro- 


12 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


portion in matters of tact and taste to approach the subject 
verbally until time should have softened the raw edges of 
that compassion and regret which Violet, being a generous 
girl, could not help feeling for the ^‘man who had lost.’' 

Though, however, he said nothing that could be con- 
strued into verbal love-making, he said enough to make 
the girl understand that he hoped and expected to see a 
great deal more of her, not only in the immediate future, 
but in that coming by-and-bye, which John Anderson, 
my Joe, John’s" wife, has by her address elevated into a 
poetic period. 

So it came about that as the later strains rang out, and 
the later waltzes were being danced, Violet had a novel, 
thrilling, excited sense of happiness which she had never 
experienced before, and under its enthralling influence she 
forgot to be regretful about the man who was her true 
lover she knew — though not a successful one. 

Once or twice in the course of the night old Lady Hal- 
ford nodded, and blinked, and smiled smiles full of 
obnoxious understanding at Violet. The girl had wonder- 
ed at these signs half-indignantly, and had not responded 
to them. But though Lady Halford was tired, and at all 
times, even when unfatigued, ready to find some fault or 
flaw in Miss Grove, she felt well pleased enough with her 
on this occasion. The protecting maternal instinct told 
her that her son would be safe in the future from this 
special young woman’s wiles at least ! And there was the 
Duke’s daughter reposefully in the background waiting for 
him ! 

It was rosy dawn before the latest lingering guest got 
away from the ball, that in the rush of London life was 
utterly effaced from everyone’s mind before noon. As 
Violet reached her room and put down the big posy of 
violets of every shade, from white to darkest blue, she put 
her lips, with a little tremulous motion, to a space from 
whence two — a shaded Neapolitan and a Russian blue — 


THAT OTHER WOMAH. 


n 


had been extracted. I shall always keep them ! May 
I ? Mr. Phillipps-Twysden had murmured as he took 
possession of the violets. And Violet Grove had certainly 
not forbidden him to keep them ; indeed, though she said 
nothing, he seemed well satisfied with her silence. 

Very few of her waking thoughts were given to Sir 
Lionel Halford. She had liked him well enough, but had 
never been attracted, interested, or influenced by him, 
and she felt that she could be — that she was, in fact — by 
his friend, whom he introduced to precipitate his own 
downfall. 

But when she was dressed the next morning, and the 
moment came for her to go down and face her mother, she 
began to remember vividly what had passed between her- 
self and the man on whom her mother’s hopes had been 
fixed. It was in vain that she tried to strengthen herself 
for the unpleasant task of avowing her refusal of him by 
declaring to herself that even if she had not met Phillipps- 
Twysden she could not have married this good, stout, 
short, rosy-faced baronet. In her heart of hearts she knew 
that had not this other man come along, the advantages of 
becoming Lady Halford would have turned the scale in Sir 
Lionel’s favor. But that possibility was over and done 
with now, and mamma had to be faced with the disappoint- 
ing truth. 

Mrs. Grove was busy writing notes in her morning-room 
when Violet went down, and with a feeling of being re- 
prieved — for that morning at least — Violet made her way 
to the dining room to have some half-cold coffee and roll, 
with what appetite she could. If she could only get out 
for a ride before her mother had finished her correspon- 
dence, they need not meet till luncheon, and by that time 
plans for the remainder of the day would probably be 
occupying Mrs. Grove’s attention. At any rate, until 
luncheon she would not be called upon to acknowledge 
her indiscretion, and to attempt to justify her folly,’* as 
she had no doubt her mother would consider it. 


14 


THAT OTHER WOMAH 


But as she was passing the door of Mrs. Grove’s sanc- 
tum on her way down, after dressing for her ride, her 
mother called her in, and as Violet came forward with a 
slow, unwilling step, Mrs. Grove looked up brightly and 
asked : 

Well, dear, you have something to tell me, surely ? ” 

Nothing particular, mamma, only I enjoyed myself 
immensely.” She had been about to add that she “ wished 
last night’s experiences were to come over again the next 
night,” but remembering Sir Lionel, she thought better 
of it. 

Surely you have more to tell me ? ” Mrs. Grove said, 
knitting her brows impatiently. I saw you going away 
with Sir Lionel to the conservatory, and I saw how 
savagely his mother was watching you. But after that I 
never got an opportunity of speaking to either of you. 
Come, Violet, tell me.” 

“ Sir Lionel went away directly aft^r you saw us go to 
the conservatory, that’s all ! ” Violet stammered. 

All ! ” 

Yes, all, mamma ! What is the use of going over it 
all again? Sir Lionel and I are just what we have always 
been — very good friends ; nothing more.” 

He didn’t propose ? ” 

“Yes, he did, and I refused him. Now, mamma, dont 
look sorry and disappointed. I thought you knew that I 
didn’t care for him ? I told you so.” 

“ Not care for him ! Oh, Violet ! If I look sorry and 
disappointed, I do not look worse than I feel. I am very, 
very sorry. Bitterly, bitterly disappointed. You ! heart- 
free as you are, to have refused such a man ! ” 

Violet was dumb. 

“ You are heart-free, are you not? ” Mrs. Grove went 
on, impatiently, “ or,” with a sudden recollection of old 
Lady Halford’s hints, “ was that malicious woman right 
when she told me that you and the man her son brought 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


15 


with him appeared to be favorably impressed with one 
another? I hope not, Violet, I distrust that man. Even 
if he were the baronet, with wealth, and rank, and position 
assured, I should say the same thing. I hope^ I think it is 
not this Mr. Phillipps-Twysden.’’ 

‘‘Mamma,” Violet said reproachfully, “what am I to 
say? He is a stranger; I may never see him again, but 
I like him, and I shall think about him, and I’m sure he 
likes me. And now — do let me go, and don’t be angry 
with me, mother ! I really can’t help anything that has 
happened.” 

“ Ah ! but would you help if you could ? ” Mrs. Grove 
sighed, and as Violet could not give a satisfactory answer 
to this, she thought it would be wiser to get away for her 
ride without further delay. 

“These things will happen, and why mamma should 
think I ought to like a podgy little man better than that 
splendid-looking fellow, I can’t think. It’s utterly unrea- 
sonable of her ! ” Violet thought, as she settled herself in 
the saddle. 

Up to the present juncture, it may be observed, the 
horrible question of s, d. had never presented itself, as 
one that must be solved, to Violet Grove’s mind. She had 
been kept so apart from all personal acquaintance with 
the “ root of all evil,” that, actually at twenty she thought 
more of the difference between the two men than of the 
difference between their incomes. It pained her to think 
that her mother took a mercenary view of a matter that 
Violet was disposed to regard as one of heart, and feeling, 
and sympathy, and taste alone. 

“ If Sir Lionel could make me a princess and give me a 
palace to live in, I wouldn’t look at him — now,” she told her- 
self, with decision, as she turned into the Row, and at once 
caught sight of Mr. Phillipps-Twysden leaning over the 
railings on the opposite side. Then she remembered 
vividly what perhaps she had forgotten before, namely, 


i6 THAT OTHER WOMAN, 

that she had told him on the previous evening that about 
this hour she should be riding here. 

But he had replied that he was a business man ” — far 
too busy a man ever to be able to indulge in any morning 
amusements. Think of me as chained to an office from 
dawn till dusk, Miss Grove, and pity me for not being able 
to fight my battle by daylight — as Halford can, for instance, 
when it pleases him” — he had said, and Violet had read 
between the lines of this speech, and blushed in a way that 
promised well for the scheme Mr. Phillipps-Twysden had 
conceived. 

The thought that was uppermost in his mind now as 
Miss Grove approached him was that she was admirably 
turned out, and that her horse would have been cheap at 
a hundred guineas. But before I go much farther I’ll 
find out if old Grove is as sound as he seems ! if he is, the 
fair Violet shall have her way, and I’ll surrender.” He 
smiled with tender gratitude into Violet’s sweet, bending 
face as he thought this, and for a moment the girl broke 
the rules under which she rode, paused, and gave him her 
hand. 

I have broken my chains for once, you see. Miss 
Grove, and already I am rewarded for my effort. A 
minute ago I feared that you had forgotten you were going 
to ride here this morning.” 

I had not forgotten,” said Violet, quickly. “ I hoped 
I should see you, but I musn’t stay and chat. It’s one of 
mother’s rules, that unless papa is with me I’m not to stop 
to speak to anyone in the Row.” 

One moment ! Which is your mother’s day ? ” he 
interrupted, and Violet, who felt that she was astounding 
the old coachman, who had ridden with her from the day 
she was ten until now, answered briefly — ‘‘ Thursday,” 
and rode on. 

The man to whom she had given the information stood 
looking after her for a minute or two, then he sauntered 
off, thinking ; 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


17 


“ She’s good-looking in her way, and she’ll please and 
satisfy the old boy, on the whole. I may as well settle it. 
Halford shan’t have her ! ” 

He went back to the city, where he traded under the 
old-established name of “ Hornbeam, Hunting & Co., and 
gave his mind to business unreservedly for several hours. 
During those hours scarcely one thought of Violet crossed 
his mind, but he conjectured about her father a good deal 
and tried to set many of his conjectures to rest by making 
discreet enquii'ies. These latter seemed to be satisfactory. 

The firm of Grove and Pring,” paint and enamel mer- 
chants, bore a stainless and prosperous record. Grove,” 
he was told, ‘‘ was reputed* to be close-fisted, indeed, but 
for his wife would be miserly.'” Pring, on the contrary, 
was said to be always there or thereabouts in a certain fast 
fashionp.ble set, was unmarried, good-looking, and clever 
in most things that had nothing to do with his business. 
Further, he was informed that it was an open secret that 
the senior partner intended to have the junior one for his 
son-in-law, but was thwarted in his design by his ambitious 
wife. 

They say Mrs. Grove turns up her nose at the City, 
and means to get a title for her daughter,” one man told 
him, adding, ‘‘and she’ll do it, too, for that young fellow. 
Sir Lionel Halford, is as mad as a hatter about the girl, 
I hear.” 

It was five o’clock when Mr. Phillipps-Twysden turned 
his steps westward. 

First he looked in at his club to gather up and reply to 
his private correspondence. It was one of his hard and 
fast rules never to have a private letter addressed either to 
his husmess house or to the chambers or lodgings in which 
he might be temporarily residing, “ Hospitable fellow,” 
as he was generally proclaimed to be, he invariably 
exercised his hospitality either at his club or at one of the 
palatial hotels which about this time had begun to spring 


i8 


T//A7^ OTHER WOMAN, 


up in the Metropolis. Few, if any, of Phillipps-Twysden’s 
most intimate friends knew where the man had his local 
habitation. 

When he had despatched his correspondence, he got 
into a hansom and was driven to Upper Belgrave Street, 
where in a comfortably-furnished old-fashioned house he 
found Lady Halford graciously ready to give him half-an- 
hour of her amusing scandalous gossip, and a cup of 
excellent tea. It was the first time he had called on Lady 
Halford by invitation, and he had a tolerably clear idea 
why Lady Halford had asked him with such genial friend- 
liness on the previous night to “ drop in and enliven an old 
woman for half an-hour at five-o’clock tea to-morrow.” 

Lady Halford was alone when he went in. She regretted 
this circumstance verbally, telling him that she had 

expected some delightful people, who had failed hen” 
But in reality she had had herself denied to some of her 
dearest friends in order to improve the shining hour with 
Mr. Phillipps-Twysden. 

Her tongue was itching to say something disparaging 
about the last night’s ball and the giver of it. But she 
remembered that it was no part of her plan to make 
Violet’s mother look ridiculous in Phillipps-Twysden’s 
eyes. She reserved that pleasure for her son. Accord- 
ingly she began : 

As a rule, I bore myself terribly at balls, not having 
girls to chaperone, but the sight of that charming girl’s 
beauty and happiness last night quite compensates me for 
the effort I made to go. I can’t wonder at Lionel’s infa- 
tuation any longer.” 

Have you seen Halford to-day?” he asked. 

I have not. He promised to come in to luncheon, but 
I am not an exacting mother, and I quite forgive the breach 
of promise, if he was — where I know he would wish to be,” 
she said, smiling beneficently. 

She wanted to see this man take Violet Grove entirely 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


19 


out of her son’s way, therefore she did not think it neces- 
sary to tell him that she had heard her son was on the 
brink of leaving the country. He must think of Lionel 
as a rival still, or he will grow lukewarm,” she thought 
sagaciously. 

Meanwhile he was thinking, Does she want me to think 
he has a chance still, in order to egg me on ? Poor old 
lady ! She’s giving herself all the trouble of being false for 
nothing. I'm sure of the girl, but I want to know what 
this old harpy can tell me about the girl’s father and 
mother.” So he said, suavely: 

‘‘ I didn’t see much of the master of the house last night ; 
but if he’s as satisfactory as the mistress of it, the Groves 
must be a charming family.” 

Oh ! he’s rich and retiring ! ” Lady Halford laughed, 
as she poured rich cream into her guest’s tea ; and Mrs. 
Grove is greatly sought in society. She has written some 
delightful drawing-room pieces, and she acts in them 
herself quite professionally, I’m told. Not a touch of the 
amateur about her. My son tells me she sings superbly ; 
in fact. I’ve often thought that the mother must be a 
dangerous rival to her daughter.” 

‘‘Altogether, you evidently think the Groves a most 
desirable family to enter. How gratified your son must 
be that your views accord with his own so thoroughly.” 

“ Ah ! my dear Mr. Phillipps-Twysden,” she said, pre- 
tending to be thrown off her guard, “ the Groves are all 
that I tell you, all, and more — much more ! But I am his 
mother, and I feel that if Violet Grove should ever be 
coerced into marrying Lionel, she will not have one spark 
of affection for him. Think of it ! Think of what a love- 
less marriage would be to my poor boy, and understand 
why I wish you well in your wooing. 

She le^nt towards him, extending a tremulous hand and 
speaking with quivering lips, and he began to feel that in 
cutting out his friend he would be obviously fulfilling the 


20 


ri/AT OTHER WO MAH 


hearths desire of that friend’s mother. But what was her 
motive ? that was the question ? In another moment Lady 
Halford had answered it. 

I will be quite straightforward with you, Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden. I feel I can trust you. For Lionel I have 
other views, and if my views are carried out he will be a 
happy man. You know Lady Susan Meadows, the Duke 
of Meadshire’s eldest daughter? ” 

No, Mr. Phillipps-Twysden had not that honor. 

Ah ; then you will hardly understand my hopes and 
anxieties ; but this I can tell you, she is the sweetest — 
quite the sweetest — girl in England, and she appreciates 
Lionel’s sterling qualities. If I could see him married to 
Lady Susan, I could go to my grave in peace, but the 
image of Miss Grove obtrudes itself and blocks his road to 
happiness. If he could only hear that she was engaged, 
happily, the rest that I wish would follow.” 

Phillipps-Twysden had no overwhelming feeling of 
concern on the subject of Lady Halford’s peaceful progress 
to the grave, but he was fired with admiration for Violet 
and with the idea of cutting out the wealthy baronet. 
Additionally the prospect of having a rich father-in-law was 
pleasant to him, but he developed a feeling of antagonism 
to Mr. Grove at once. 

Accordingly he listened to Lady Halford’s suggestions 
with an expression of polite interest that left her quite in 
the dark as to his intentions, and when a few minutes 
afterwards he took leave, she had the sore sensation that 
is apt to beset one who has shown her hand for nothing. 


21 


THA T OTHER WOMAN. 

\ 


CHAPTER III. 

PHILLIPPS-TWYSDEN SEEMS STAUNCH. 

W HEN Sir Lionel Halford made his way out of Mrs. Grove’s 
house, immediately after Violet’s rejection of him, he was 
^ very unhappy young man, but he was not by any means 
u despairing one. His heart was too heavy to allow him 
io stay and possibly witness the sight he dreaded, namely, 
that of Violet smiling upon his friend. But heavy as it 
was there were two or three hopeful throbs left in it still. 
He fully recognised the value and the power of the 
influence (the temporary influence, he called it) that was 
adverse to him. But knowing the changeful nature of the 
man who was exerting that influence, he told himself that 
it would not be for long. 

Nevertheless, though he did not despair — though he had 
faith in the prophetic feeling which told him that Violet 
would turn to him when she had found the other man to 
be a rotten stick — he was not dogged enough to return to 
the charge at once. He told himself reasonably enough 
that to wait on Violet’s change of mind was better than to 
worry her into changing it. So he spent several hours 
of that night in looking over some matters which required 
arrangement before he absented himself for any length of 
time. And by the morning his scheme was organised, 
and his mind was in fair travelling order. 

The world was all before him where — to choose — a con- 
dition of things that is proverbially unsettling. But Sir 
Lionel belied the proverb, and made up his mind at 
once. He did not care for blue skies and sunshine, for 
pictures, or sublime scenery or society, so he would go 


22 


TffAT OTHER WOMAN. 


where there was something to be done that he would like 
to do, something that would interest him and occupy him 
till such time as Violet should have seen the mistake she 
had made. Then he would leave his healthful and 
interesting employment of hunting bears in the backwoods 
of Canada, and would come home and rectify her mistake, 
and thank God that he had not been a despairing fool this 
night. 

So he proposed doing and feeling. Proposed it not 
bumptiously at all, but humbly and cheerfully, forgetting 
that he was only man. 

His preparations for his journey were soon made, one 
of the most difficult of them being to persuade his mother 
into taking an agreeable view of his project. Lady Halford 
was furious, and showed the fury she felt — that a mere no- 
body like Violet Grove should have had the power of 
upsetting Sir Lionel Halford from the comfortable social 
pedestal on which nature and providence had placed 
him. 

That a young man who was a baronet with eighty thousand 
a year, and a duke’s daughter ready to step down and 
marry him, should go into the backwoods and throw him- 
self away among bears,was incomprehensible and exasperat- 
ing to the last degree to his mother. Deeper, too, than 
these fretful, vain and ambitious ones was the feeling that 
she loved him, and hated the hardships to which he might 
expose himself for love of Violet and bear-hunting. 

Surely you’ll call at Meadshire House before you go ? ” 
she said anxiously, aiid her son answered. 

‘‘ No, mother, the Duchess would frankly call me a fool 
for going out into the cold when I needn’t do it, and I 
shouldn’t be prepared with an explanation, you see.” 

And Lady Susan ? ” 

Lady Susan ! Oh ! Lady Susan would probably tell 
me she hoped I should shoot several bears — if their skins 
were good. She’s a nice, practical, sensible girl, is Lady 
Susan " 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


23 


! Lai/’ his mother broke out, calling him by his 
old baby name, why can’t you like her well enough to 
marry her and be happy yourself, and make your poor old 
mother supremely so ” 

‘‘Just because I can’t, mother,” he said quickly and 
gravely, “ not that she’d have me — she’s a deal too 
staunch to take a fellow up simply because circumstances 
seem to knock him down to her.” 

Then he went on to talk of what it would be best for his 
mother to do in his absence, which would probably be for 
a couple of years. 

“ Go down to Halford at Christmas and warm up the 
old place, won’t you, mother ? ” 

Lady Halford shrugged her shoulders. 

“ My being there without you would only emphasise the 
disadvantages the place labors under on account of your 
prolonged absence, Lionel ; you are forgetting your duty 
as a land owner \ you are disregarding the rights of your 
tenants and employes by going away in this manner. 
Whoever has driven or persuaded you to take this course 
has much to answer for.” 

She spoke seriously and with earnest conviction, and 
her son was compelled to admit to himself that she had 
reason and justice on her side. But he would not 
relinquish his plan of travel and adventure. He could 
not tamely stand by and wait till Violet should, through 
the tribulation of finding out Phillipps-Twysden’s instability, 
come to the perfection of knowledge of himself. 

“ I should wish you to keep up the same establishment 
at Halford as if I were there, mother. Spend all 
you think proper on the place, and with more of my 
gratitude by using my funds so worthily.” 

“ I dislike being there in your absence, Lai,” she said, 
fretfully ; “ I am only the Viceroy, and I want to see a 
rightful queen reigning in the dear old place. Besides ” 
— and here her voice broke with genuine pathos that 


24 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


nearly melted his resolve — ‘‘ I am getting old, and when 
you are gone I shall feel my age and loneliness bitterly. 
How can I go and live in a place that I have been peopling 
in my mind for months with the presence of one who 
would be as a true daughter to me ? How can I go and 
brood in solitude in a place that I have been picturing as 
echoing to children’s laughter and footsteps ? ” 

‘‘ Pray God for me that I may be able to give you what 
you desire — pray God for me that I may have the strength 
to wait, and wish what you hope for,” he said kindly and 
gently, responding to his mothers gesture of affection ; 
and for the moment Lady Halford felt almost inclined to 
breathe a little prayer for her son’s happiness with the 
girl of his heart. But a timely recollection of Lady Susan 
Meadows crossed her mind, and the prayer she did breathe 
was to the effect that Lionel might be speedily drawn 
towards the Duke’s daughter. 

However, this prayer not being answered — happily both 
for Lady Susan and Sir Lionel — the latter carried out his 
plans and started for Canada, after writing a manly tender 
letter to Violet Grove, begging her to think of him always 
as of the friend in the world who was most anxious for her 
welfare, and most eager to secure it in any way that seemed 
best to her. At the same time he told her that he should 
bring his case before her again in two years, when he 
hoped she might consider it more kindly.” 

Violet read his letter, felt her eyes grow red and watery 
over it for a moment, and then forgot all about the writer 
as she listened to some gossip of the day while she was 
presiding at her mother’s Thursday-afternoon tea-table. 
The retailer of the gossip was that entertaining person — 
Phillipps Twysden,” as Lady Halford described him — who 
was fast making his way into Mrs. Grove’s inner circle, 
though without any encouragement from Mrs. Grove her- 
self. She endured him, and did that with a bad grace. 

In spite, however, of Mrs. Grove’s mute but manifest 


TJIAT OTHER WO MAH. 


2 ^ 

antagonism to the man of her daughter's choice, that 
daughter did eventually choose him, and long before Sir 
Lionel Halford had shot his first bear, the engagement of 
his friend Phillipps Twysden to Miss Violet Grove was 
announced, with the addenda that the marriage was to 
come off shortly. 

A reluctant heart-aching consent was won from the girl's 
mother. Even this would not have been obtained if Mrs. 
Grove's nose had not been brought to the grindstone dur- 
ing a confidential conversation with her husband just 
previous to the offer being made. 

Is there any chance of that affair with Sir Lionel Hal- 
ford and Violet coming to anything?” Mr. Grove had 
asked, coming into his wife's room before dinner one day 
on his return from the City. 

Something despondent in his tones struck her ear pain- 
fully, and she looked up nervously to see him looking 
more moody, ashen and broken than she had ever seen 
anyone near and dear to her look before. 

“ Why do you ask ? He has proposed to Violet and been 
refused. What is it,William? ” she asked anxiously. 

Refused ! '' he groaned. “ Merciful Heavens ! Then 
there's nothing but ruin before us.” 

Ruin ! ” 

Ruin ! '' he sobbed. ‘‘ I have feared it — staved off the 
fear — suspected — despised myself for suspecting— watched, 
striven to avert — all in vain. Pring is a scoundrel, and I 
and my dear ones will reap the fruits of the villainy he 
has sown. He has gone away — heaven only knows 
where, after having drawn every fraction from the bank.” 

“ But your signature must have been on the cheques ? 
Oh, William 1 what is the worst ? '' she sobbed, plaintively 
and tremblingly, for poverty was a very dreadful thing in 
Mrs. Grove's estimation, though she had never tasted it, 
and so could not estimate it properly. Poverty was a 
very dreadful thing to her, but here was something worse 
than poverty. Here she felt intuitively was disgrace. 


26 


THAT other woman. 


My signature has been forged. Marian, don^t look at 
me like that. All the world will blame and scout me for 
my credulity and carelessness, but I can come before my 
accusers with clean hands. My wife and child needn’t 
blush for me. I am, I am ” 

Her arms were round his neck before he could tell her 
what he was, but she finished the sentence for him. 

‘‘ You are dearer to your wife and child than ever, Wil- 
liam, believe that. Be brave, my dear husband, and you 
will find that Vi and I are not cowardly. If we are ruined 
in purse, we still have health and honor, and happiness in 
one another. Be brave ! and face the worst at once.” 

Her advice was good, and he followed it for two 
reasons, the one being that he felt it to be sound ; the 
second being that circumstances were so strongly in favor 
of expedition in the matter that he was compelled to face 
the worst at once. 

The worst ” was not so bad as Mrs. Grove had feared 
it would be at first. True they were hurled from the old, 
proud, well-established, and reputed business height 
which had been stormed successsfully, and honorably, by 
Mr. Grove’s grandfather and great grandfather. True 
they had to leave the beautiful home in which Violet had 
been born and reared, but what of that ? They might be 
happy, equally happy, in a humble one, the good wife 
argued, cheerfully. But Mr. Grove knew that he and 
happiness had shaken hands for the last time. Culpable 
carelessness ” was the worst charge brought against his 
character. But when he had passed through the fires of 
investigation and publicity, he knew himself to be seared, 
marred, and maimed for life. 

Through it all, to the amazement of those who knew 
him intimately, and greatly to his own surprise, Phillipps- 
Twysden remained staunch to Violet ; and when the 
miserable affairs of the firm and family were settled, and 
the Groves found that they had to begin life again on less 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


27 


than two hundred a year, all that could be honestly 
realised for them from the wreckage, Mrs. Grove had to 
give her consent to a fate she dreaded for her daughter ; 
because it might be that a harder one should overtake her. 

“ At least, now you must admit that it’s myself that he 
has wanted all along,” Violet said. 

But Mrs. Grove was not at all disposed to grant this. 
His present conduct seemed to be disinterested. But, 
though Violet was a pauper, Mrs. Grove distrusted 
Phillipps-Twysden as much as when Violet had been an 
heiress. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE CLOVEN HOOF SHOWS. 

Five years have passed since Mrs. Grove’s reluctant con- 
sent was obtained to her daughter’s marriage with Phil- 
lipps-Twysden. To Violet those years had brought much 
luxury and pleasure, one great jo}'' ! — and one ghastly dis- 
appointment ! 

The great joy, the joy and happiness that passed all 
understanding, was the birth of the little son who soon 
became the one object on which all her hopes in this world 
were fixed. From the moment that she caught sight of 
his unattractive little lobster-red visage, an hour or two 
after his birth, till now that he was a bonnie, beautiful boy 
of four, he had been the sole heart-sunshine of her life. 

She had a charming house ; an equally charming circle 
of friends ; a plentiful supply of money to expend on that 
house and in entertaining those friends, and decorating 
the persons of herself and child ! and — there it ended ! 
These things were palliative substitutes for happiness, but 
they no more made happiness in the big generous heart of 
the woman who exercised the power they gave, than would 


28 


THAT OTHER H'OMAH. 


the sight of one of the masterpieces of the greatest painter 
the world has ever known assuage the pangs of a penniless 
wretch, starving for want of a bit of bread. 

The fact was that Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, the wife of 
the senior partner of a firm whose wealth and prosperity 
had become a proverb in the City, had no more power to 
relieve that often necessitous and always poverty-stricken 
condition of her father and mother than you or I have. 

The distrust and intuitive antagonism with which Mrs. 
Grove had regarded Phillipps-Twysden from the day of 
his introduction to her was returned by him with bitter 
hatred from the day he became her son-in-law. It gave 
him absolutely pleasurable sensations to know that he had 
been and still was the means of rendering null and void 
the intense desire Violet had to help her mother. 

If I ever find that a penny of mine makes its way into 
the pocket of that mother of yours, by Jove ! I’ll stop 
your allowance, Violet, and pay the smallest of your bills 
by cheque ! ” the bridegroom kindly observed to his bride 
on the day of their return from the wedding tour, which 
had been a dream of felicity from which she speedily 
awakened, and into which she was never destined to re- 
lapse. ViolePs mind had refused to grasp the full meaning 
of his words at first. But he soon made them painfully 
clear to her. And from that moment she realised that she 
had made an irretrievable mistake, and tasted the first 
fruits of her disregard of her mother’s counsel. 

Do you mean that, rich as I am — rich as are at 
least — that I am to see mamma harassed and worried for 
want of a little money, and not give it to her ? ” she asked, 
nearly choking with anger and amazement. 

You needn’t witness the disturbing state of feeling you 
describe, my dear one,” he laughed. I am going to be 
rather particular where my wife goes, and among other 
places already marked in my mind to be avoided is your 
mother’s house ! ” 

John ! ” 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


29 


She could say no more, but rage and amazement, the 
despair and desperation in her face were eloquent. 

‘‘You feel it so much, do you?” he said angrily. 
“ Look here, Violet, let us understand each other clearly. 
You have made me believe that you loved me above 
and beyond everyone in the world. Have you lied to 
me ? ” 

“ You have believed the truth — it was the truth till now.” 

“ I married you in this belief — nothing else would have 
made me marry the penniless daughter of a ruined man, 
and of a flighty, defiant woman, whom I have always de- 
tested ” 

“You shall not speak so of my mother ” 

“ I shall speak of your mother as I please. She has 
always hated me, because I came in Halford’s way, on 
whom, if you’d married him, she would have fattened. 
Now, I’ll repay her in kind ! She shall not benefit either 
by your love or my lucre. If you ever go to her it will 
be in direct defiance of my orders ” 

“ I shall defy them, I shall go to my mother ! ” 

“ Oh ! very well ! she’s quite capable of encouraging you 
to disobey your husband, or to wrong him in any way. 
Yes, that’s my opinion of your mother, my dearest one, 
and the sooner you respect that opinion the better for 
you.” 

“ I shall never respect either your opinion or you 
again,” the young wife said, broken-heartedly. 

“ That’s quite a detail, as long as you obey me,” he 
said, coolly. 

“ I shall not obey you. As for your money — your vile 
money, of which you think so much — my mother wouldn’t 
defile her fingers by touching it. But I shall give her my 
love and presence freely ” 

“ Well, you’ll have no opportunity just yet,” he inter- 
rupted smilingly, “ for I wrote to her from Paris, telling 
her we should remain abroad till Christmas, and so, as 


30 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


she had no chance of seeing you, she’s gone off to recite 
and make a fool of herself at some North-country and 
Scotch institutes and music halls. A nice thing for my 
mother-in-law to be doing, by Jove ! Td as soon hear of 
her dancing in tights and spangles in a booth at a village 
fair ! ’’ 

Thus it was that Mr. Phillipps-Twysden drew the line, 
and marked out the spaces along and in which his wife was 
to move. Thus it was that her married life of cutting dis- 
appointment began. 

Now, five years had passed over her head since these 
bitter words had been exchanged between her husband 
and herself. The taste of these words was as bitter in her 
mouth as ever, but to a certain extent she had disregarded 
them and treated the restrictions they enforced as non- 
existent things. As she had declared she would do, she 
had done, namely, given her love and her presence to her 
mother “freely,” but not “frequently.” For during those 
five years Mrs. Grove had been incessantly on the tread- 
mill, now in Edinburgh or Glasgow. Now in Dublin or 
Cork. Now through the chief towns of the western coun- 
ties. Always striving to make a little vxtra fund wherewith 
to meet the expenses of the little home in a London 
suburb, where the once rich merchant was wearing out his 
broken life in unavailing regrets, and futile efforts to 
occupy his mind with books and an uninteresting little 
garden. 

It was a terrible drop for the woman who had been one 
of the best amateur actresses on some of the most exclusive 
private boards in London. But she refused to acknow- 
ledge herself shattered or even shaken by the fall. At 
first she had nourished the hope of getting on the stage. 
But she had neither youth, beauty, nor great social influence 
to back her now, and there was always plenty of talent in 
the market, she learnt. So, after a time, she accepted the 
inevitable, and fought her way to the rough and ill-repaid 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 3t 

platform, beyond which few popular reciters and enter- 
tainers may hope to soar. 

She was a good-looking woman still. In the days of 
her prosperity and perfect dressing she had been a very 
handsome and elegant one. But inferior materials and a 
third-rate dressmaker can do as much towards the des- 
truction of a woman’s appearance as even her worst enemy 
could desire. Moreover, just when she needed it most, 
the prettiest and most taking part of her assured manner 
deserted her. She felt herself shiver and lose nerve and 
height the first time she made her bow as a paid entertainer 
before a large institute full of worthy critical intelligent 
mechanics and artisans. But after a time she recovered 
her right judgment, and worked as heartily for the interest 
and approval of her audience in fustian and cotton as she 
had of old for the applause of a houseful of her royal and 
aristocratic friends and supporters. 

In fact, she compelled herself to discern the real from 
the unreal, the work-a-day living present from the dead 
past, with its seductive delusive glamor. So it came to 
pass that, after many a struggle and rebuff, her way of life 
came to be an ascertained one, fixed and settled, and 
fairly remunerative. And for relaxation she had Violet’s 
letters, and the sight of Violet for an hour or two when- 
ever she could spend a few days at home with her husband 
in the little house in Park Village East. 

A high-spirited, clear-sighted, and sensible woman, Mrs. 
Grove never permitted herself either to moan over the 
defection of the many, or the patronage of the few among 
her former friends. She walked down and took her stand 
on the lower level without hesitation, and remained on it 
firmly. If timid or awkward social advances were made 
to her by some old intimates who feared she would think 
them mean if they did not make them, she made it clear 
that the present relations between them must be entirely 
uninfluenced by the past. Old Lady Halford had an 


32 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


example of this put before her early in Mrs. Grovers pro- 
fessional career. 

I should like to ask you to come and do something at 
one of my evenings, but knowing you as I have done, it 
couldn’t be managed, I fear, Mrs. Grove.” Sir Lionel’s 
mother said this when she met Mrs. Grove by accident. 

‘‘Forget that you ever have known me, and I’ll do the 
same. Offer me the same terms and the same treatment 
you would offer to a stranger, and as a stranger I’ll come 
gladly,” Mrs. Grove replied. 

Accordingly Lady Halford, with a spice of humor, strong- 
ly dashed with malice, did secure the services of that 
accomplished elocutionist and reciter, Mrs. Grove, for one 
of her crowded evenings, at which, among other people, 
were present Mr. and Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden. 

To Violet there was neither mortification, shame nor 
annoyance in this rencontre. She was proud of her mother, 
and of her mother’s talent, and glad as a child to see others 
acknowledge it. As soon as the recitation was over she 
made her way with feverish haste to her mother’s side, 
while her husband beat his brows at her in his usual forcible 
style from the other side of the room. For to Phillipps- 
Twysden there was annoyance of a peculiarly bitter kind 
in meeting Mrs. Grove in one of her old haunts even 
under changed circumstances, and in seeing his wife defy 
his order, not to recognise her mother, to his face. 

So he glared at her and did not approach her, and when 
someone, not knowing the relationship between them, spoke 
to him of Mrs. Grove, he descended to the depths, and 
uttered the following bit of baseness : 

“ Clever ! Hardly clever, but confoundedly audacious. 
She was in society once, I believe, but she’s a woman I 
won’t let my wife know.” 

The man to whom he said this was a well-known gossip 
and imaginative retailer of scandal. He did not know Mr. 
Phillipps-Twysden, but thanked him for the words, which 
were as widely whispered about as even he could desire. 


TJIA7' OTHER WOMAN. 


33 


You see, I’m not the only fellow who won’t allow his 
wife to have anything to do with that mother of yours,” 
he said to Violet one night at dinner, repeating his own 
heavily-trimmed remark to her as if he had not been the 
one to say the destructive words and set the damning ball 
rolling. 

Then Violet told him what a far better woman she her- 
self would have been that day if she had never had aught 
to do with anyone save that dear mother of hers, “ who 
saw through you from the first,” she added. 

So in this way their lives had gone on for five years. 


CHAPTER V, 

AN OLD STORY RETOLD. 

It must not be imagined that Sir Lionel Halford had been 
away bear-hunting all these five years. He had stayed away 
for two years according to his original intention, working 
hard and travelling and hunting, and trying very manfully 
to take an interest in all those fellow-creatures who would 
be bettered by such an interest being taken in them. But 
all the time the pain which pricked him sharply when he 
heard of Violet’s marriage continued to smart and hurt 
him. It was characteristic of him that he never indulged 
in even the most transient feeling of hatred or desire for 
vengeance against Phillipps-Twysden, the man who bad 
supplanted him. On the contrary, he prayed very heartily 
that Phillipps-Twysden might turn out a good fellow in 
every way for her sake.” 

There was no unworthy, mean and suspicious act in the 
thought that flashed into Sir Lionel’s mind when he heard 
of the marriage, still, he felt sorry and a little disturbed by 
it. It was this. That though he had seen a great deal of 

2 


34 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


Phillipps-Twysden during the last twelve or eighteen 
months, he really knew nothing about him beyond the fact 
of his being a gentlemanly, clever fellow, with plenty of 
money, and a partnership in a prosperous business-house 
in the city. Of Phillipps-Twysden’s own people Sir Lionel 
knew as little as Violet Grove did when she married him. 

However, he subdued the uncomfortable feeling of dis- 
quietude and uncertainty by manfully attributing it to 
jealousy on his own part, and wrote a hearty letter of con- 
gratulation to the lucky man. Then he disciplined him- 
self according to his lights, and though he neither forgot 
Violet nor tried to forget her, he abstained as resolutely 
from indulging in maudlin regret, as he did from the luxury 
of giving way to the sentiments of envy, hatred, and malice 
against her husband. 

At the expiration of two years he had come back to find 
Lady Susan Meadows still unmarried, still unemotionally 
happy to see him and to be friendly with him, and still 
perfectly powerless to efface the image of Violet from his 
heart in imagination or wherever it was imprinted. And 
Lady Susan had been quite affably contented that it should 
be so, though his mother had told Lady Susan more than 
once that Lai’s one fault was a faint heart where the 
woman he most admired was concerned. 

‘‘ Perhaps after being hugged by a bear, he won’t feel 
shy of a woman he admires,” Lady Susan had said with 
her most meaningless smile. She was not a lymphatic 
fool by any means, but when she felt herself being beguiled 
into showing her hand by the mother of a man who had 
refrained from showing his as yet, she could be very 
lymphatic and impenetrable indeed. 

After this Lady Halford had said no more to Lady 
Susan, but she had a cosy chat or two with the duchess on 
the subject. The duchess was an affectionate, but not a 
blindly-partial mother, and she knew that if Susan had not 
been a duke’s daughter, her mental and moral charms would j 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


35 


probably have been overlooked in this matrimonial market 
altogether. Therefore she inclined a kindly ear to all the 
hints Lady Halford threw out respecting Lionel’s deep but 
unspoken feelings towards Lady Susan. 

The Duchess of Meadshire was a pretty blooming girl 
when his Grace had married her nearly forty years before. 
Now she was a shapeless old lady, whose fat was so unman- 
ageable that when she sank down upon a chair or sofa it 
looked as if she had been spilt there. 

“ It’s fortunate that Susan doesn’t take after me,” she 
said in the course of one of these conversations with Lady 
Halford. ‘‘ Sir Lionel is short and stout himself ; it would 
have been the height of imprudence on his part to have 
wanted to marry a plump girl. Now Susan is tall and dis- 
tinctly thin — — ” 

‘‘ Thin and graceful,” Lady Halford interrupted. 

No, no ! there’s no blinding oneself to the truth when 
it’s so apparent as this truth is whenever Susan wears a 
low dress. She is very thin, bony in fact. But never 
mind. If she had been a beauty she would have been 
married to someone else long ago, and Sir Lionel would 
never have had a chance. Now, in ten or twelve years 
she’ll be just as good to look at as if she had been a 
beauty in her youth. So it’s all for the best. Look at 
me ! Forty years ago I was called the Queen of Rose- 
buds ! Look at me now ! ” 

Lady Halford looked at her, had nothing appropriate 
and pleasant to say about her, and so judiciously rounded 
the conversation off towards her son. 

“ Lionel will be home by the middle of August. He 
wants me to have a house-party at Halford for the first — ” 

She paused, leaving her sentence unfinished, and the 
duchess filled up the space. 

‘‘And you want us to be there, I suppose. Now, my 
dear, that’s quite impossible for two reasons. The first is : 
Susan won’t go unless Sir Lionel downright asks her ; and 


36 


TIfAT OTHER WOMAN, 


the second is that we’re full up at Meadow’s Court till we 
go abroad in the middle of October. If Sir Lionel wants 
to see Susan he must come to us at Meadow’s Court.” 

So when the invitation came he went to Meadow’s 
Court, in Somersetshire, his mother having judiciously left 
unrepeated that remark of the duchess as to his going 
being indicative of a desire to see Lady Susan. 

And while he was there he was reminded vividly of 
Violet again, for at Houndell, a neighboring place, there 
lived an eccentric old bachelor friend of the duke’s called 
Twysden. 

Papa likes him because they were boys and young 
men together, and mamma likes him because he always 
keeps papa interested and happy when we’re down here,” 
Lady Susan explained to Sir Lionel. And I like him,” 
she added, ‘‘ because he is as kind and good and charitable 
to everyone as if he hadn’t keen tricked and deceived and 
made very miserable by those he trusted in his youth.” 

‘‘ What’s his story ? ” Sir Lionel asked. 

The two young people were leaning over a low iron gate 
that led out of the lawn at Meadow’s Court into a long, 
straight walk, bordered by high hedges of dipt beech that 
were glowing ruddily in their autumn clothes. Along this 
path the two old gentlemen were strolling arm in arm. 

‘‘ A common-place story enough, as far as the love part 
goes, but with some uncommon treachery in it. He was 
engaged to a great beauty once, and the wedding-day was 
fixed. Among other people who came to stay with him 
to be at it was his sister’s lover, a man called Phillipps. 
This man was very brilliant and attractive, but he must have 
been a worthless scamp, for before the wedding-day came 
he had got the bride-elect to elope with him. He left a 
heartless letter for poor Miss Laura Twysden, telling her 
that she would live to bless him for the action which saved 
both her brother and herself from marrying people who 
didn’t care for them. And that was all the apology or 
excuse he offered. Wasn’t he a wretch? ” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


37 

WhaJ; became of them ? Sir Lionel asked. Phillipps ? 
I know a Phillipps-Twysden.” 

Do you ? Well, I hope you know some good of him, 
for he iS' the son of the precious pair I’ve been telling you 
about,” Lady Susan answered. It’s a story that is brim- 
ming over with ingratitude and treachery on the one side, 
and generosity and goodness on the other. Mr. Phillipps 
and his wife soon spent what means they might have had 
when they married, and directly poverty stepped in the 
man showed himself in his true colors. He grew morose 
and cruelly harsh and tyrannical to his wife, and she being 
high-spirited stood up at him and gave back his hard 
words and surly sneers with interest. They soon came 
to hate one another heartily, and at last he left her, and — 
where do you think she came to ask for help for herself 
and her little son ? ” 

To the rn^n who had loved her, I suppose,” said Sir 
Lionel simply. 

“ She did — \\vit how she could bring herself to do it, 
how she could bring herself to face Mr. and Miss Twys- 
den and ask theiy} for help, I can’t imagine. But she did 
it, and those two blessed people treated her as a sister, 
gave her a nice little house near them, and a comfortable 
income ; and between them adopted her boy. They 
heaped coals of fire on her head, and when she died Mr. 
Twysden changed into quite an old man in a day. I’ve 
heard mamma say. There was love if you like. Now tell 
me what you know about the son ? ” 

Then Sir Lionel told what he knew, going resolutely 
through the whole story of Phillipps-Twysden’s meeting 
and marriage with Violet Grove. 

When he had finished Lady Susan lifted herself up from 
the gate on which she had been leaning, and holding out 
the hand that was nearest to him said warmly : 

I understand ! You would do for Violet what Mr. 
[ Twysden did for the woman he had really loved, if Violet 


38 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


ever needed it. I quite understand ; and, Sir Lionel, I 
never liked you so much in my life as I do at this moment, 
and — I am so sorry for you.” 

That he was grateful to her for her sympathy was 
evident from the way he took and pressed the kind, true, 
honest, womanly hand held out to him. Yet he had said 
no words relative to his love for Violet, or of the hopes he 
had entertained of winning her before he had been mis- 
guided enough to introduce his own familiar friend to her. 
But though he had not spoken of his own love and hopes, 
and had simply narrated how quickly Phillipps-Twysden 
had won his wife. Lady Susan was discerning enough to 
read between the lines, and, as she told him, what she 
read there made her like him better than ever. 

Yes,” he said in answer to her remarks, ‘‘ I would do 
all that a brother could do for Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden if 
she ever wanted aid, but that’s a very unlikely and remote 
contingency. The son is not like the father, he adores his 
wife, and they are very happy together, I hear. Besides, 
you must remember that Violet didn’t deal treacherously 
with any man, or jilt him. She was as free as air to 
choose when she chose Phillipps-Twysden.” 

He spoke gravely and earnestly in his defence of Violet, 
and Lady Susan’s face glowed with the warmth of cordial 
feeling which was evoked in her by his generous unselfish- 
ness. As they walked back towards the house, anyone 
seeing them might well have fancied they were lovers, for 
he was speaking very earnestly, and she was turning her 
head towards and listening to him with wrapt interest. But ■ 
at the same time she was thinking — 

You good mammas on both sides are destined to be dis- > 
appointed ! History is repeating itself. What those j 
saints, Mr. Twysden and his sister, were to Mrs. Phillipps | 
and her son. Sir Lionel will be to that son’s wife — her loyal j 
knight and true, whether she ever wants him or not.” 

‘‘ Where were you all the morning, Susan ? ” the duchess ^ 


rHAT OTHER WO MAH, 


39 


asked her daughter as they were trundling along behind 
the fat little cobs that did duty in a very low pony carriage 
when the duchess was bent on a neighborly calling round. 
She drove them herself, accompanied almost invariably by 
her daughter ; and the two ladies delighted in dispensing 
with all constraining state or attendance on these occasions ; 
relying, as humbler people are compelled to do, on finding 
odd boys to hold their horses at the houses of those friends 
whom they found at home. 

“ Where were you ? I wanted you to look over the list 
of the lot who come when these go,” the duchess went on 
speaking of her coming and present guests. I’m so apt 
to forget whether I’ve got together those who hate or those 
who love one another till I am reminded. I sent for you, 
and was told you had gone out with the Duke and Sir 
Lionel.” 

Even so I had,” Lady Susan assented smilingly ; then 
papa met Mr. Twysden, and, as usual, finding him alL 
sufficient. Sir Lionel and I were left to ourselves, and very 
much we enjoyed ourselves in the sun at the end of the 
beech-hedge walk for an hour.” 

He’s one of the nicest men I know, Susan, and I mean 
to be fonder of him than of all my other sons-in-law put 
together.” 

“ That’s very good of you, mamma ; I’m very fond of 
him already. I think he’s the best man I know, except 
Mr. Twysden.” 

“ What do you mean? ” the duchess asked, pulling herself 
rather more into shape in order to gain a better view of her 
daughter’s face. 

^‘Well, you know the story of the way that grand 
chivalric old saint, Mr. Twysden, returned good for evil, 
for you told it to me yourself ! ” 

“ Yes, yes, but what has that to do ” 

With Sir Lionel ? Listen, mamma, and you’ll like Sir 
Lionel almost as much as I do. The son of the man and 


40 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


woman who condemned Mr. Twysden to lead a wifeless 
life, has done the same thing for Sir Lionel, and he, the 
generous, darling fellow, will keep himself free to help and 
serve her if she ever needs help or service, just as papa’s 
old friend did.” 

‘‘ Did he tell this to you ? ” the duchess asked, aghast. 

“ He told me something, and I guessed out the rest.” 

‘‘ Has he said he doesn’t mean to marry ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, dear no ! but if he ever marries he will cease to be 
my ideal knight, and I shan’t be half so fond of him. I’ve 
made up my mind that he is to be prosaically comfortable 
with some nice young woman.” 

Does this mean that you’re such a sentimental noodle 
that you won’t marry him because you’re not his first 
love ? ” the duchess asked angrily. Lady Susan laughed 
at the accusation as she answered : 

‘‘It means that he’ll never ask me or any other woman 
to marry him, if Mr. Phillipps-Twysden out-lives him.” 

“ Oh, dear ! I must go to Houndell and have a chat with 
Laura Twysden about it all. To think that horrid young 
man whom they adopted should have crossed our paths. I 
mean Sir Lionel’s. Laura will be shocked, and so sorry for 
you, Susan, I’m sure.” 

“I don’t come into the story,” Lady Susan said good- 
temperedly. 

The duchess thought it no matter for mirth, and replied, 
rather angrily : 

“ You would have been the heroine of the story, Susan, 
if it had not been for that other woman — that Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden.” 

“ Don’t blame her. As far as I am concerned she did 
her best for me by removing herself from Sir Lionel’s 
path.” 

Lady Susan spoke with imperturbable good-humor, but 
there was a little pain behind the effort at .composure. 
She was quite satisfied to remain Lady Susan Meadows. 


TITAT OTHER WOMAN, 


41 


At the same time she would have been well pleased, now 
she knew him better, to have been the heroine of Sir 
Lionel’s love-story. 


CHAPTER VI. 

GOOD-BYE ! 

When the Phillipps-Twysdens were first married they lived 
in a house in Westbourne Terrace, but after about three 
years Mr. Phillipps-Twysden had conceived a violent 
distaste to the neighborhood, and declared in favor of a 
house in the country about an hour from town. 

At first Violet had been strongly opposed to the house. 
She had got fond of the house that had been her first 
married home, and in which she had been happy while the 
glamor of her love for her husband lasted. She had 
“ cultivated ” each room with care and thought, and taste 
and money, and had grown attached to them. Moreover, 
her boy had been born there, and the birth-place of an only 
son must always be dear to his mother. 

Additionally she had many dear friends in the region 
around, and it seemed a purposeless and wilful thing to do 
to cut themselves off from this circle and go away into a 
country place where they might possibly be weighed and 
measured and found wanting by the residents for many a 
long month. 

If she had still loved her husband desperately ” as she 
had done when she married him, or even had she retained 
any of the warm, tender, brave affection she had cherished 
for him in spite of many things after the desperate love ’’ 
died, it would have been different. There would then 
have been no hardship or difficulty in going into a dull 
district, or, for the matter of that, into the veriest solitude 
he could have suggested. But as it was — well ! as it was. 


42 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


there was no compensation in her domestic life for the 
social consolations she relinquished in leaving Westbourne 
Terrace. 

In the early days of her marriage Violet had forced 
herself to be a very forgiving woman, because she still 
loved him and still believed in his love for her. She had 
forced herself to look at his conduct towards her mother 
with stern justice and impartiality, and she had forced 
herself to admit that her mother had been the first to pro- 
claim war. But other yokes had been laid upon her, and 
she was now at the end of five years beginning to feel that 
she would not bend her neck to them meekly any longer. 

When first she permitted herself to feel that he was 
‘‘cruel,” she nearly broke her heart over her own “weak- 
ness and disloyalty,” as she regarded it for the moment. 
For how could she call him “ cruel ?’^ He had neither 
starved, deserted, nor knocked her down, and it was for 
taking one or other of these extreme measures that hus- 
bands get into the police reports. But still after a time it 
came to her in cold blood to feel that though he provided 
her with the means of having what lodging-house people 
call a “liberal table” — though he stayed with her, and 
never struck her — he was nevertheless “ cruel ! ” 

For he was weary of her, and he showed his weariness 
in a dozen little ways that cannot be defined and written 
down. If she was ailing, he would order a big fire in her 
bedroom if the weather was cold, and direct the cook to 
supply her mistress with plenty of beef-tea. And he would 
be put out and annoyed because she could not preside at 
his table and superintend the comfortable arrangements of 
the house. And there it ended ! 

Without ever saying anything definitely unkind or un- 
just in words that she could have taken hold of clearly and 
resented or disputed, he still continually goaded and stung 
her. He would fix his cold deep grey eyes on her, and 
find fault with some trifling omission or action in steady, 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


43 


level tones that betrayed neither passion nor irritation, 
and that fell upon her heart with the fatal effect of the 
proverbial drops of water on the hardest stone. As a 
rule, her reason told her he was reasonable in his reproofs 
and condemnations. But her heart ached and rebelled 
against them, and she had none to turn to for comfort. 
For she was too proud and too true a woman to let the 
truth escape her to even acquaintances and friends — the 
truth, the sad subduing truth, that her husband was tired 
of her. 

And with all he was so high above suspicion, so far 
above reproach in the eyes of all men. Regular and 
steady in his devotion to business, prompt in his pay- 
ments, an example of Sunday church-going, a contributor 
to all parochial and local charities, liberal in all his house- 
hold arrangements, fond of his little son Jack, and desirous 
always that his wife should be well-dressed, and that every- 
thing about her carriage and horses should be admirably 
appointed and perfect of their kind. 

What more could any reasonable woman want ? 

Sympathy and affection and consideration ! These were 
the things Violet craved for, and these were just what 
Mr. Phillipps-Twysden withheld from her. 

He had long ceased to kiss her when he left the house 
in the morning or came back to it at night ; and though 
her heart had bled, and she had cried her eyes into a state 
of inflammation about the omission at first, she had now 
grown callous to it. But when he went away for a three 
weeks’ stay in Manchester in order to organise a recently 
started business there, with a mere cool ‘‘ Good-bye, 
Violet, take care of the boy, and wire if there’s anything 
the matter with him,” she was nearly stunned. 

She stood perfectly silent and motionless just inside the 
large French window of the dining-room, and he came in 
and out several times to pick up cigar cases, newspapers, 
and such things, talking all the time to his son or giving 


44 


TJIAT OTHER WOMAN, 


directions to his servants. The double dog-cart with its 
pair of handsome brown horses was at the door, and she 
recalled with a sharp throb of pain, the feeling of passion- 
ate pride and pleasure which had filled her heart the first 
time she had seen him driving those horses to her father’s 
door when he came wooing her. That was only five years 
ago ! and how he seemed to love her then ! Was the 
change in him accounted for by any change in herself! — 
had she grown unsightly? 

She turned round sharply to look in a glass, and her sad 
eyes met their own reflection for a moment only, for she 
saw her husband standing there still. 

“ I just came back to say that if you like to have any- 
one stay with you while I’m away you can, you know, 
Violet ” 

Thanks, there is no one.” 

‘‘ Why not ask your mother, if she can give up stumping 
the country for the sake of her daughter for once.” 

She would do anything for the sake of her daughter — 
except come into your house,” she said with an angry sob. 
Then she recovered herself, and added, 

“ But thank you for thinking of providing for my amuse- 
ment. I shall not be dull — that is, not duller than usual. 
I shall have Jack.” 

He fidgeted about in away that was most unusual with 
him for a few moments, then, as he was lighting his cigar, 
he said : 

met two old friends yesterday. Halford and Noel. 
Noel’s staying somewhere down in the West. He wants 
me to go and stay with him, so when I’ve done Man- 
chester, if I don’t come home you needn’t be surprised. I 
haven’t seen Dick Noel for ten years.” 

She heard without grasping the meaning of his words, 
for her memory had gone back to the day when she made 
her choice between Sir Lionel Halford and this man who 
was now her husband. 


THAT OTHER WO MAH. 


45 

“ I suppose Sir Lionel won’t call on me ? ” she said 
softly. 

“ Hardly, I should think. I certainly didn’t invite him 
to do so. Well, I’m off; good-bye.” 

He held his cheek down sideways for her to kiss if she 
felt disposed, and she held her head up higher and stood 
back apace. 

“ Good-bye, John. I hope you will enjoy yourself,” she 
said quietly ; and he looked at her and laughed — actually 
laughed — as he said : 

So, the ‘gentle tassel’ isn’t going to be whistled back 1 
Well, Violet, I certainly won’t trouble you with any more 
of my endearments since you refuse me a little kiss when 
I’m going away for several weeks.” Then he went out 
singing as he went : 

If she be not kind to me, 

What care I how fair she be.” 

When he drove away Violet faced herself in the glass, 
and this is what she saw. 

A charming graceful figure, an oval, clear-skinned face, 
with delicate mobile little features, and sweet eyes of rare 
hazel grey that looked black in some lights, and blue in 
others, and a handsome little head round which the dark 
silky hair was closely dressed. 

“ I have not grown ugly ! ” she thought ; “ there is more 
in my face, more power, more thought, more prettiness 
than there was when he married me, and there would be 
more love too if he would have it. The change is not in 
me. What is the change in him ? Why has he tired of 
me ? Is there some other woman ? ” 

When she asked that question, or rather when she 
suffered that question to be wrung out of her heart, she 
knew that her assumed indifference, her enforced quiet 
endurance of his cold duty-treatment of her was all a sham. 
She loved him still, she would love him better, more 


46 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


staunchly than ever, if only there is no other woman, if 
only little as he cares for me he cares for no one else,” she 
sobbed as she turned away from the contemplation of her 
anxious sweet face. Then she reproached herself for daring 
to suspect him, and sent for her little Jack to bear her 
company in a drive. 

It was a beautiful home, set in the midst of mosaic-like 
gardens, which were bordered by pine woods on the north 
and east, and the beauty of it was very apparent to her 
this morning, for it was June and the roses were in bloom. 

How happy John and I ought to be ! ” she thought as 
her carriage wheels rolled swiftly down the drive and away 
over the common towards Weybridge, where she meant to 
take a boat and give Jack and herself a blow on the river. 
‘‘ How happy we ought to be. -We have youth and health 
and wealth — and such a darling child ! Oh ! my boy ! 
with you well and strong and happy and provided for, how 
can I be a miserable woman ? ” 

Nevertheless, as she took her seat in a boat down by 
the ferry with little Jack on her lap, she was a miserable 
woman, for she could not forget the manner of her parting 
with her husband, nor could she cast from her mind that 
suspicion of there being another woman in the casewhich 
had flashed across it this morning. 

They had hardly gone fifty yards before Jack found 
boating monotonous and wanted to fish, as he saw the 
_ occupants of other boats doing. Fishing tackle not being 
in the bargain when the boat was hired, Violet had to 
improvise some out of her parasol handle, pocket-handker- 
chief, something unattractive both in color and appearance 
which the boatman produced from his pocket. However, 
Jack was not only satisfied but delighted, so they stayed 
in mid-stream for a couple of hours, during which Jack 
caught nothing assiduously, and his mother dreamed a 
long, sad, waking dream, from which she was awakened at 
last by the flashing of oars, the sound of bright voices, and 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


47 


the sight of a big boat full of people passing close to her, 
among whom she recognised Sir Lionel Halford and his 
mother. She had not seen the former since her marriage ; 
but Lady Halford she met now and again in society. 
Accordingly the passing boat was checked and greetings 
were exchanged, and Sir Lionel tried his best to be quite 
easy and natural. 

I saw Noel and your husband yesterday, Mrs. Twys- 
den. Noel wants me to join them ” 

At Manchester ? ” Violet interrupted in her surprise. 

“ At Manchester ! No, not a bit of it, but at Plymouth. 
I suppose you go down for the ball ? ” 

What ball ? ” 

Really, Lai,’’ his mother put in, we’re blocking the 
way while you’re gossiping. My dear Mrs. Twysden, I 
haven’t half forgiven you yet for having left town. I 
can’t tell you how we all miss you. Lai, I shall have a fit 
unless you move on ; there are three boats bearing down 
on us. Good-bye ! so that’s your sweet boy ? By-by, 
darling, take care of mamma. Good-bye, Mrs. Twysden.” 

Lady Halford’s boat shot on, and a lady who was sitting 
by her bent forward and whispered to Sir Lionel : 

She is the ‘ Violet’ of whom you told me three years 
ago. Sir Lionel.” 

He assented with a slight, grave smile. 

Sweet little boy, that of the Phillipps-Twysden’s,” 
Lady Halford put in fussily, and how well she looks. 
Have you seen her till now since her marriage, Lai ? ” 

I have not,” he said curtly. 

Can’t you introduce me ? ” Lady Susan asked. I 
would rather know her than any other woman I’ve ever 
seen in my life.” 

She is interesting ! ” Lady Halford said drily ; at 
least she would be if she were not quite so much wrapped 
up in her husband. He is a very delightful person, I 
admit, but still not all the world to everyone else as he is 


48 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


to his wife. It was quite a love-match theirs — one of the 
rare ones that turn out so well. You may remember 
something about it, Lai. They met and were infatuated 
with one another at first sight, and married, and are 
entirely happy and absorbed in one another. Quite a 
model pair, I call them.” 

Lady Halford ceased speaking, and Lady Susan 
Meadows roused herself from a reverie with a little 
start. 

Thanks for gratifying my curiosity about the pretty 
woman so exhaustively, Lady Halford,” she said. ‘‘ I 
happen to know some friends of Mr. Twysden’s in Somer- 
setshire. But he never brings his wife there, and they 
have an idea that she is something very different to the 
reality. I shall be glad to know her myself, and help the 
Houndell peple to know her better/' she added, bending 
forward suddenly and addressing Sir Lionel ; but Lady 
Halford’s quick old ears caught the words. 

Perhaps, however well her husband’s people know and 
like her, they may not care to be much mixed up with her 
mother^'' she whispered mysteriously ; a curious kind of 
person, my dear Susan ; clever I’ve no doubt ; and showy, 
and oh ! so self-confident and ‘ courageous,’ as some 
people call it ! But terrible — simply terrible as a mother- 
in-law to a man who shrinks from being the observed of the 
many, as Phillipps-Twysden does.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

FLO AT HOME. 

When Mr. Phillipps-Twysden spoke of having met his 
old friend, Noel,” as if he had met him that day for the 
first time for ten years, he spoke wide of the truth. He had 
seen Dick Noel many times in the course of the last ten 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


49 


days or a fortnight. He had dined, lunched, and gone to 
theatres, clubs, and other places with him ; had, in fact, 
resumed almost in its integrity the old bachelor intimacy. 
But, notwithstanding this, he had kept two important 
points concerning himself concealed from the gay, 
thoughtless, thoroughly honorable soldier. The one was 
the comparatively unimportant fact of his having taken 
unto himself the name of Twysden ” in addition to that 
of ‘‘ Phillipps.” The other was that he had married a 
wife ! 

With both these facts in the background he went to 
Manchester, as he had told his wife he should ; but instead 
of remaining there for some weeks on business, as he had 
implied he might be compelled to do, he stayed for two 
days only, and then made his way to Plymouth, where 
Major Noel had settled down to spend his two years’ 
leave. 

It had been arranged between the two men, when they 
parted in London, that Phillipps should go to a fancy 
dress ball, for which Major Noel had already received an 
invitation, which was to be given at a rather rollicking 
country-house near Plymouth. In view of this, Phillipps 
brought with him an admirable Faust costume, for a 
rumor had reached him that one of the prettiest girls in 
the neighborhood would appear as Marguerite. 

For some reason or other the name of this girl, 
Florence Arle, sounded pleasantly in his ears, and out of 
the idlest curiosity he made a few enquiries about her from 
Major Noel. The latter could tell him only that she was 

as pretty a girl as he had ever seen ; but, unluckily for 
me,” he added, ‘‘ she has no tin, so I must leave her to 
fall to the share of some such rich fellow as yourself, 
Bhillipps.” 

I’m out of the betting,” Phillipps-Twysden had replied, 
and for a moment or two he hesitated as to whether or not 
he should tell Noel he was. already married. Finally he 


50 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


decided that he snould keep the fact of his marriage dark ! 
— at any rate until he as Faust had made the acquaintance 
of Florence Arle as Marguerite, After that event circum- 
stances would guide him and determine how much or how 
little he should say about Violet, his wife, to his new 
acquaintances in the West. 

It must be understood that for some incomprehensible 
and occult reason Phillipps-Twysden went to this fancy 
dress ball predisposed to be interested in this girl, Florence 
Arle. Beyond her name which sounded with unaccountable 
lingering sweetness in his ears, and the report of her 
beauty, he knew absolutely nothing about her. 

His secrecy concerning his wife and child had, hitherto, 
been motiveless, merely the outcome of his habitual 
reserve about his own private affairs. But from the 
moment of his being introduced to a Marguerite as fair as 
she who inspired Goethe’s imagination, a motive as fierce, 
relentless, and deadly as ever actuated the conduct of a 
Faust ^ took possession of him, and made him resolve, with 
selfishly savage force, that Florence Arle should never 
know of Violet’s claim upon him.” That was the way he 
worded it himself — Violet’s claim upon him.” The legal 
claim which his wife had upon him was the sole tie that 
bound him to her now, and even that might be broken or 
slipped through by cleverness and tact, he thought, as his 
steady burning unflinching eyes followed the unfortunate 
Marguerite^ whose uncommon beauty had caught his fiery 
fancy to her own detriment. 

It was uncommon beauty ! For once the charms of a 
local belle had not been overstated. Her metallic-looking 
gold-colored hair, her starry green-grey eyes, the satin-like 
texture of her skin, and the splendid grace of her slim, 
perfectly-proportioned figure, were all above criticism. 
But her manner and expression were more attractive even 
than her looks to a man who, like Phillipps-Twysden, had 
been accustomed either to conventionally good or ordina- 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


51 


Mly bad women all his life. Florence Arle had until the 
last two months of her life been her own sole guide, philo- 
sopher, and friend. And the result of her self-education 
was somewhat extraordinary, and as difficult to deal with as 
to describe. 

For instance, her manner was as free, careless, ‘^un- 
bounded,’' one might almost say, as were the manners of 
the colts among whom she had been brought up. But her 
morals were as precise as a Puritan’s and as pure as an 
angel’s. She had kicked over the traces many a time, in 
appearance, so her detractors — and they were many — said. 
But no one dared to whisper a word against the honor 
and goodness, the modesty and integrity of the girl, who 
followed the hounds alone because she had neither father, 
brother, nor groom to accompany her, in order that she 
might “ show off” and sell the young horses by the careful 
production and training and successful sale of which her 
father and mother lived. 

A glance at the Arle household on the morning after the 
fancy dress ball at which Florence had seen and been seen 
by Phillipps-Twysden may help to a clearer insight into 
her character. 

The house, known simply as Eastmoor, stands — or stood 
— between the Cornwood and Plympton districts. The 
road to it was a rough one, leading over the bed of a river 
between two rocky banks to a hill-side path, at the top of 
which stood the house, encircled by a yard. Along three 
sides of this yard were stables. The fourth side opened 
upon a good tan-run, across which hurdles were often put 
up at intervals, for here Florence Arle trained the colts 
she rode to sell. 

On this special morning she stood ready habited, waiting 
for her mount, at a side door at the end of a long passage. 
Another door hard by was open, showing a glimpse of a 
comfortable “ domestic interior.” A well spread breakfast 
table stood in the middle of a bright little room, hung 


52 


TI/AT OTHER WOMAN. 


round with a number of charmingly executed water-color 
sketches of Italian and Swiss scenery. And at this table 
a delicate-looking woman presided over coffee-pot and 
cream-jug, and a partially paralysed man made a slow and 
difficult progress through the various dainty dishes. 

The pair were Mr. and Mrs. Arle — Florence’s father 
and mother. He had been an artist, and a fairly success- 
ful one, until this grievous affliction befel him. The 
exigencies of his long serious illness strained their resources 
terribly, and after that partial recovery, which left him 
quick to see, feel, and imagine as ever, but powerless to 
execute, there seemed to be nothing but gripping poverty 
and sordid want before the stricken artist and his pretty 
wife and child. 

But when things were at their darkest the clouds began 
to lift. A brother of Mrs. Arle’s, who had kept aloof from 
the ‘‘ painter ” in the latter’s prosperous days, ranged up 
alongside of his sister in her hour of distress, and offered 
the whole family a home with him at Eastmoor. The little 
property was his own, and he lived on it, and he lived 
well, for he was the owner of a fine breed of horses, and 
was noted also for his skill and prowess in breaking them in. 

The prospect of living an isolated, horsey life on a 
remote horse-breeding farm on the borders of Dartmoor, 
did not commend itself to either Mr. or Mrs. Arle. In 
fact, they hesitated, and so nearly offended Mr. Joseph 
Cadly out of all desire to help them. But Florence, a 
little girl of 12, was enchanted at the idea, and her genuine 
gratitude and pleasure soothed her uncle into a lenient 
mood, when his brother-in-law and sister, finding they 
could do no better, accepted his bounty. 

They had been at Eastmoor ever since Florence was 
12, and she was 23 when she, to her misfortune, went 
to the fancy dress ball. Practically she was the mistress 
of the establishment, for though her mother kept the keys 
and ordered the stores and the dinners, it was always 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


53 

‘‘ Flo’s wishes ” that were consulted, and Flo’s will ” that 
regulated the routine of the household ways. 

‘‘ Old Joe Cadly,” as everyone had called him for the 
last twenty years, was a man of upwards of seventy now. 
His eye for a likely colt, his seat in the saddle, and his 
ability in driving a bargain were as good as ever. But his 
business would long ago have gone to pieces had it not 
been for his niece and idol, Florence. His seat and his 
hands were admirable, so was his pluck, but one of the 
curses of the changeable Devonshire climate — rheumatism 
— had claimed him for its own, and it was only in the earliest 
autumn and latest spring hunting days that he could follow 
the hounds. Fortunately his famous riding mantle had 
fallen on the shoulders of his pretty niece, and so for the 
common weal it had come to pass that from the time Flor- 
ence was about fifteen it became her duty to ride the 
Eastmoor colts to hounds as they came on for sale. 

The pursuits of her calling had neither roughened, vul- 
garised, nor made her unfeminine. Instinctively everyone 
recognised that the well-known old horse-breeder and 
trainer’s niece was a gentlewoman, and then when her 
poor afflicted high-bred artist father’s sad story was told, 
people declared her conduct to be “ heroic,” and an impul- 
sive few invited her to dances. The majority of those 
who did this had no marriageable sons, and so were 
disposed to laugh at the cautious mothers who hinted that 
‘‘ Charming as Florence Arle and her parents were. East- 
moor was not quite such a good training ground for a girl 
as for a colt.” 

It had been at the house of one of the most daring of 
these injudicious ones that the fancy ball had taken place. 
The mistress of the house had a warm hunting heart beat- 
ing in her matronly bosom, and the ‘‘cleverest little horse 
in the world ” was hers by Florence Arle’s advice. Mrs. 
Broadhurst was wealthy, and old enough to follow her own 
whims without consulting anyone, and it was her pleasure 


54 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


to give the girl whose career was so incongruous with her 
manner and appearance all the pleasure she could. Accor- 
dingly she procured a perfect Marguerite costume for her 
pet, and invited her — to meet Phillipps-Twysden ! or Mr. 
Phillipps as he was called now, for in Devonshire the 
^‘Twysden was released from the tone’^ giving duty it 
had to perform in London Society. 

Presently the young horse, which was in process of 
being gentled by Florence, was led round to the side-door 
by a stable-lad, and her uncle’s voice calling her at the 
same time to hurry up, my girl,” she went out, followed 
by her mother. 

suppose you’ll be back to dinner at two, as usual, 
Flo ? ” the latter asked, as she watched with pride the 
rapid series of graceful movements with which her daughter 
settled to her saddle and her work. 

What a goose I am, mother, not to have told you. I 
am to lunch with Mrs. Broadhurst at two, and show 
‘ Larkspur ’ over some hurdles to some friends of hers. I 
think I shall come home on some other man’s property. 
Uncle Joe, for my Faust wants a perfect one, and he needn’t 
look beyond ‘ Larkspur’ for what he wants.’’ 

“ Major Noel will think twice before he forks out a 
hundred and fifty,” Uncle Joe was growling, half-pityingly, 
half-contemptuously, in reply, when Florence interrupted — 

‘‘ Major Noel wasn’t my Faust at all. Faust was a Mr. 
Phillipps, some commonplace London business man, I 
believe. I was rather disappointed when I saw him first, 
but afterwards I liked him, he knew more about the play 
than anyone else I spoke to. Tell father if Faust comes 
here to look at ‘ Larkspur,’ he must exert himself to be 
pleasant and talk. Now, Jim, I’m ready, let go.” And 
‘‘ Larkspur’s ” head being released the girl rode off as she 
had ridden a hundred times before, to show a likely hunter 
to a possible purchaser. 

But never to come back the same carelessly happy, 


THAT OTHER WOMAH 


55 


contented, unscheming creature who had spoken with 
such unfeigning accuracy of Mr. Phillipps as ‘^her FaustT 

A blessing Mrs. Broadhurst is to our dear girl,’’ Mrs. 
Arle said to her husband with a sigh of contentment as 
she re-entered the breakfast-room. Flo meets such nice 
people there. I shouldn’t wonder if she makes a good 
quiet marriage after all. It’s always been my fear that 
she might marry someone who’s horsey, and horsey only, 
like poor Joe; but I find there are always a set of men 
who don’t hunt, as well as a set of men who do, about Mrs. 
Broadhurst’s.” 

And we generally know pretty much about the men 
who do hunt down here, and less than little about those 
who don’t,” Uncle Joe remarked as he hobbled forward ; 
for the wind had changed, and his rheumatism was reveng- 
ing itself upon him for the climate’s caprices. It’s no 
use, Fanny,” he went on, “ Flo will saddle her own horse, 
and never choose a bad ’un. My trouble is that the more 
she goes out among the gentry — her own class,” he added 
quickly, as he saw his sister flush with angry pride, the 
sooner I shall lose the sweetest pair of hands that ever 
taught a colt to look through a bridle.” 

Well, well, Joe ! ” Mrs. Arle said, forgivingly and 
encouragingly, we needn’t trouble ourselves yet. Flo 
hasn’t got a thought of any man besides her father and you 
in her head yet — ” 

Then long may her father and I reign,” Uncle Joe 
prayed fervently, as he went away to his little office, which 
commanded every inch of the stable-yard through a 
window whose crystal brightness revealed every speck of 
dust on the coats of the groomed ones as they were 
paraded round before being exercised in the tan run, and 
somehow or other he found himself wishing more fervently 
than he had ever wished before that Flo was a boy ! not 
only because she’d follow me here more seemingly when 
I’m gone, but because she’d be spared some trouble, poor 
lass ! some trouble 1 


56 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


CHAPTER VIIL 

MR. CADLY ON CONJUGAL DUTIES. 

Mrs. Broadhurst was a determined woman with a hooked 
nose and a high spirit, as void of vanity as she was of dis- 
cretion. The intimacy which was that day commenced at 
her luncheon-table and afterwards cemented over some 
hurdles on her lawn between Florence and Mr. Phillipps, 
was well sustained under her fostering care. The good- 
looking, clever, attractive London man of some business 
or other,” who was vaguely reputed to be enormously 
wealthy, and the pretty penniless daughter of the paralysed 
artist were incessantly invited, in season and out of season, 
to meet each other at the Broadhursts. The man went 
only too readily. So, alas ! did the girl ! 

Once, when the matter had grown beyond her control 
through Mr. Phillipps having gained the right of entrance 
to Eastmoor itself, it did occur to Mrs. Broadhurst to 
make a few prudent enquiries concerning him. But, 
unluckily, she made them of Major Noel, whose confidence 
in and enthusiasm for his friend far exceeded either his 
knowledge or grasp of the subject. 

Your friend Mr. Phillipps seems seriously smitten with 
Flo, doesn’t he ? I suppose there is no doubt about his 
being as desirable as he seems ? ” she asked, and the 
Major loyally replied. He’s one of the best fellows in 
the world, take my word for it. I adore Miss Arle myself, 
and think she’s a lucky girl to have got such a fellow as 
Phillipps.” 

^‘She has got him, then? He does mean to marry 
her ? ” Mrs. Broadhurst asked a little anxiously ; and 
Noel assured her that he knew Phillipps through and 


THAT OTHER WOMAH, 


57 

through, that there was no humbug about him,^* and that 
Florence Arle was a deuced lucky girl.’^ 

‘‘ Have you known him long ? ” Mrs. Broadhurst per- 
sisted. He seems to be a little bit secretive. I never 
hear him speak of his own people.'" 

‘‘ I’ve known him intimately for more than fifteen years,’’ 
Major Noel said warmly, and it never occurred to me to 
question why he never spoke of his people any more than 
it occurred to him to question why I never spoke of mine. 
I have none left, my dear lady ! do you mistrust me in 
consequence? Phillipps is similarly situated, probably. 
But I’ll ask him, if you please.” 

Not for worlds,” she cried, throwing up her hands. 
Only Flo’s father is helpless, her mother is a kind-hearted 
nonentity, and her uncle is — old Joe Cadly ! I feel res- 
ponsible for having helped on this affair, and if it turns 
out happily for Flo I shall take great credit to myself. 
She’s a dear child 1 I wish you had been the man ! and 
hope he won’t take her away from me altogether,” the im- 
pulsive lady added abruptly. 

He’s awfully diffident, for Phillipps, about his chances 
of success, I can tell you, if that’s any comfort to you, Mrs. 
Broadhurst ; he doesn’t assume the conquering hero airs 
by any means. Day after day he drives off asking her 
for fear he should lose her altogether, he says. It’s an 
awful compliment to any girl, I think, that Phillipps should 
doubt his chances with her.” 

He must be finessing if he says he is,” Mrs. Broad- 
hurst said angrily. Oh ! don’t protest, I tell you he 
mu&t be humbugging if he pretends to be doubtful about 
Flo. Why she wears her heart upon her sleeve for him to 
peck at. I told her of it, and scolded her about it, and 
all she said was : 

He and I both know it. Why shouldn’t I show other 
people that I love him ? ” That was six weeks ago, and he 
hasn’t asked her to marry him yet. I can tell you I got 


58 


THAT OTHER WOMAH. 


very sour looks from old Joe Cadly, yesterday, when I 
rode over to Eastmoor. I pity the man who plays the 
fool with Flo while her uncle is alive, he’ll get short 
shrift.’’ 

Major Noel went back to his lodgings in Stoke, feeling 
rather weary in his mind after this conversation with Mrs. 
Broadhurst. He had implicit confidence in the honor 
and integrity of his friend, but he could not help admitting 
to himself that Phillipps’ conduct during the last week or 
ten days had been open to misconstruction. That the 
passionate ardor of his admiration of Florence Arle was 
unabated was evident. But he winced at the word 

marriage,” and looked gloomy and depressed when Noel 
reminded him that he had no one to please but himself. 

It was guest night with one of the regiments, and the 
two men dined at mess, and so had no private conversation 
together till they were strolling towards Stoke in the early 
hours of the morning. Then Major Noel mentioned that 
he had seen Mrs. Broadhurst, and a few seconds later on 
laid that lady’s fears and opinions before his friend. 

“ You see there’s no longer any doubt about Miss Arle’s 
feeling for you, old fellow, it only remains for you to — 
what do you mean to do ? ” 

He had not intended to finish his sentence in this way 
when he began it, but a smothered exclamation that soun- 
ded very much like the reverse of a benediction on Mrs. 
Broadhurst’s interfering head had precipitated matters. 

‘‘ I intend to clear out of the neighborhood to-morrow,” 
Phillipps replied, savagely. If Mrs. Broadhurst had 
allowed me to manage my own affairs my own way things 
would have been all right and very different.” 

You don’t mean to say you’ll throw Miss Arle over ? ” 
Major Noel was so excited at the thought of the evil time 
there was in store for him with his friend Mrs. Broadhurst, 
that he decided that he was justified in playing a strong 
card. Why, the girl — she’s as frank and fearless as a 
boy, you know 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


59 


I know she is, bless her ! ” Phillipps interrupted. 

I told Mrs. Broadhurst that you knew she loved you, 
and didn’t care if all the rest in the world knew it, too. 
She’s a brick of a girl, Phillipps. I’d not give her up be- 
cause of anyone’s chatter if I stood in your shoes.” 

If you stood in my shoes, and loved Florence Arle as 
I do, you’d feel disposed to cut your — throat.” 

Ah ! ” said Major Noel, with the resignation of an out- 
sider, as he put his key into the door of his lodgings, you’ll 
look at things in a different light when you’ve tubbed and 
shaved, old fellow. I’ve no doubt it’s a grind to give up 
your bachelor freedom, but she’s worth the sacrifice, my 
boy, she’s worth it.” 

He was lighting his candle and smiling airily as he spoke, 
but his smile died out as he marked the signs of a desperate 
mental struggle manifest themselves in Phillipps’ face. 
The spirits of good and evil were wrestling in the heart of 
the man for the last time ! When he spoke presently the 
battle was over, the angel had departed, and the devil was 
having it all his own way. 

You’re right, Ned ! she is worth any sacrifice I can 
make for her. If she’ll have me I’ll marry her to-morrow, 
and put it out of the power of Mrs. Broadhurst or anyone 
else to say I’m humbugging with her. I was in a rage 
just now — a foolish thing for a man of my age to get into. 
But I’m myself again, ready to forgive Mrs. Broadhurst 
and invite her to my wedding if she’ll come.” 

It’s the privilege of the lady’s people to invite the 
wedding guests,” Major Noel explained with sleepy frivol- 
ity. His kind heart was gratified beyond measure with the 
promised result of his interference. 

Oh ! it’s the privilege of the lady’s people, is it ? ” 
Phillipps asked drily, you see I’m a novice in such 
matters. Anyway, old man, you shall not be omitted from 
the list.” Then the two men shook hands very warmly, 
and Phillipps-Twysden felt quite an estimable person for 


6o 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


having inspired such a strong friendly feeling in the breast 
of such “a thorough gentleman and good fellow as Noel.” 

The following morning, after writing a letter to Violet, 
which he sent under cover to an agent in Amsterdam to 
have posted, he rode out to Eastmoor and asked Florence 
Arle to marry him. He had been so sure of her answer 
beforehand that there was not much excitement in receiv- 
ing it. But he did feel a little agitated when, after having 
obtained the consent of her father and mother, her uncle, 
old Joe Cadly, began to catechise him. 

You must excuse me for asking a few questions, Mr. 
Phillipps, but Flo is almost like my own child, you 
understand, and as I wouldn’t buy her a hunter that 
I didn’t know something about, where ’twas bred, and 
whose training stable it came from, and so on, it isn’t much 
to ask a man who wants to marry her the same thing, 
is it?” 

It required every atom of the powerful self-control which 
Phillipps-Twysden had learnt to exercise over himself 
whenever his loss of it would have been damaging to any 
cherished scheme, that saved old Joe Cadly’s visage from 
receiving one of those delicate attentions from the hands 
of his fellow-man which occasionally cause an instantaneous 
change in the position of the features. However, Mr. 
Phillipps remained calm, and Mr. Cadly undamaged. So 
he went on — taking out his little notebook as he 
spoke 

‘‘ Her father and mother and I are quite humble people 
compared to yours, I’ve no doubt, Mr. Phillipps, but our 
little Flo is fit to step in double harness with the best 
blood in England, and we should like to feel that your 
relations and friends recognise that truth before we give 
her up to you. It’s not that we distrust you, you under- 
stand, but ” 

No, no ! I feel sure of that,” Mr. Phillipps interrupt- 
ed. And then, with a fair show of candor, he went on to 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


6i 


aver (truthfully enough) that he had neither ^'father, 
mother, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nor to the best of 
my belief, cousins,” he added. 

‘‘ Indeed ! indeed, now ! Not a relation left in the 
world, eh ? Well 'tis sad ! ’tis sad ! But your wife’s family 
must be the more to you, sir, as such is the case.” Then 
old Joe Cadly shook Mr. Phillips by the hand, and patted 
him on the shoulder, and generally treated him with a 
freedom and cordiality that made Mr. Phillipps wish he 
had never entered upon this perilous path. 

This was on the first day of the engagement, before the 
matter had been made public. Uncle Joe was so delighted 
with the way in which he had conducted these initial 
enquiries that by the time the affair got wind in their own 
circle he was the warmest and staunchest advocate Mr. 
Phillipps could have desired to find. The touch of pathos 
that old Joe discovered beneath the confession of the 
man’s relationless condition was omnipotent. 

He’s a good fellow, I’m convinced of that, Fanny,” 
Mr. Cadly assured his sister when she expressed a little 
pardonable curiosity concerning Mr.Phillipps’ antecedents. 

I’ve had a word with him, and I’m satisfied that he 
comes straight from a racing stable, and that he’ll never 
disgrace it.” 

I don’t care where he comes from if he’s good to my 
child,” the mother said vehemently ; and I think he will 
be good to her, Joe ; he told me just now that he didn’t want 
to rob me of my child. Occasional visits to London, 
and a nice pleasant home in the country somewhere near 
here so that Florence may still be with us is what he is 
thinking of.” 

He’s a business man, I’ve understood, he mustn’t give 
up looking after his business. I shall talk to him about 
that. Flo must follow her husband’s fortunes ; he musn’t 
injure them for the sake of sentiment. Your daughter ’ll 
be your daughter all your life, Fanny, but you mustn’t 


62 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


want to keep her down here when her husband’s business 
takes him to London. A wife’s place is by her husband’s 
side, Fanny ; no one knows that better than you, no one has 
put that knowledge into practice better than you, old girl, 
and your daughter will take after you, and be a crown ol 
glory to her husband.” 

A clattering of horses’ hoofs outside, as he spoke, was 
followed by the entrance into the room of Florence and 
Mr. Phillipps, just back from the exercising ground. 
Conceiving it to be an excellent opportunity of address- 
ing a word in season to both the young people, Mr. Joe 

Cadly repeated his last remark sonorously 

A wife’s place is by her husband’s side, whatever 
comes, I was saying to your mother, Flo, and I may add — 
and I am sure Mr. Phillipps will agree with me — that a 
husband’s place is by his wife, weather permitting or not.” 

My place shall be always by your side, Flo, my dar- 
ling ! ” Phillipps exclaimed, and Florence at the same 
moment said lightly, 

‘‘We mustn’t let ourselves grow monotonous to each 
other — that would never do, would it, mother dear ? I 
shall give you plenty of leave of absence. Jack, provided 
you always bring me back a clear account of what you’ve 
been doing, and where you’ve been. And I shall claim a 
fair length of it)pe, too. I won’t be a stay-at-home house- 
hold drudge because I wear a plain gold ring on my third 
finger.” 

“I’ll paint Phillipps and you as Benedict and Beatrice, 
You look a delicious little shrew at this moment,” Mr. 
Arle called out from his easy chair. And the conceit 
pleased them all so well that they grouped themselves 
again, and in a blissful interval of painlessness and slight 
access of power, Mr. Arle made a sketch which he after- 
wards worked up into a picture containing life-like 
portraits of his daughter and her lover, which he called 
Striking a blow for supremacy.” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


63 


CHAPTER IX. 

A CLOSE SHAVE. 

When the letter, which was posted at Amsterdam, reached 
Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, it found her in a very comfort- 
able state of resignation to her husband’s prolonged 
absence! Her days were the reverse of dull now. Her 
spirits had re-asserted themselves and risen to the point 
of being perfectly in tune with and capable of enjoying 
the pleasant present. Her husband no longer counted 
in her scheme of daily life. Six years ago she had married 
him for love,” against the wish of her mother and the 
advice of every one, excepting old Lady Halford 1 And now 
she felt that she could do very well without him 1 She 
had Jack and a lovely home, the frequent society of a 
most congenial friend, perfect health, and the conviction 
that if her husband was ill-treating her by staying away so 
long, she had done nothing to deserve the ill-treatment. 

There were moments indeed when Violet felt as if the 
presence again in his own house of Phillipps-Twysden 
would be rather a constraint and bore to her, instead of 
the comfort and blessing which the husband’s presence is 
popularly supposed to be. As things were she could 
avoid the dullest part of conventional life — the drearv 
duty dinners which he insisted she should go to and give 
when he was at home, and the correspondingly dull and 
dreary calls which those dinners involved. In these days 
of perfect freedom she was justified in refusing all such 
invitations in the absence of her husband,” and in dining 
at any and every hour that pleased herself — or rather that 
pleased Jack ! This in itself was a pleasure and relief to 


64 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


a woman who for the last six years had been in the habit 
of dining out two or three times a week with people whom 
she never met excepting at dinner, and to whom she consci- 
entiously meted out hospitality in return. 

But — next to Jack — the greatest pleasure she now had 
in her daily life was the companionship of Lady Susan 
Meadows. The woman who loved Sir Lionel Halford, and 
the woman he loved, had come together, thanks to the 
pertinacity of the former, and become friends in a true 
hearty way that was good for them both. Old Lady Hal- 
ford had been harassed by the duke’s daughter into 
introducing her to Violet, and when once the introduction 
was achieved the friendship speedily established itself, and 
Lady Susan was a familiar figure on the canvas whereon 
the story of Violet’s life was being painted by the time 
that letter came from Amsterdam. 

From Lady Susan, Violet heard for the first time the 
story of how and why her husband had obtained posses- 
sion of the name of Twysden. From Lady Susan too — 
but this was indiscreet — Violet heard how faithful Sir 
Lionel Halford still was to his true, generous, unselfish 
love for her. This information was conveyed in a few 
words — but they were very clear and convincing. 

‘‘ I suppose you know that I have been dangled before 
Sir Lionel’s eyes for a good many years, don’t you ? 
Lady Susan said suddenly to Violet, when they had known 
one another about a week, and Violet answered that she 
“ had often heard that it was to be a marriage some day.’^ 
Well, don’t believe what you’ve heard, but just believe 
what I tell you. Sir Lionel is a dear fellow, the best man 
I know. He will never marry me because he cares for 
another woman’s little finger more than he could ever 
bring himself to care for the whole of my rather plain 
person. You know the woman I mean ? ” 

Yes, I know the woman you mean, and that woman 
is sorry to hear that he is so faithful to a young man’s 
fancy.’^ 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


65 


No, you’re not sorry, my dear. You wouldn’t be the 
nice, dear, true woman you are if in the middle of your 
heart you didn’t feel glad to know yourself to be the object 
of one thorough man’s life-long devotion.” 

You forget I have a husband ! ” Violet said, with a 
dreary little effort at jocularity. 

Indeed, 1 had forgotten it ! ” Lady Susan said, frankly. 
Indeed Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden had need to remind her- 
self of the fact occasionally in these essentially feminine 
Arcadian days. 

But one day into the midst of this pure womanly and 
blameless Arcadia there came a disturbing element, and 
that in a guise that was above suspicion. 

Mrs. Grove came to spend a long day with her' daugh- 
ter just two days after the receipt of that letter from 
Amsterdam. Mrs. Grove’s visits to the house of her dis- 
trusted and disliked son in-law were things of rare occur- 
rence, but now in ‘-^John’s absence” Violet hailed the 
event joyfully, feeling that there would be no jar in their 
intercourse. 

All these weeks that I have been alone I have been 
disclaiming against provincial engagements, mother dear,” 
Violet said warmly as she met Mrs. Grove, but now 
that I see you looking so bonnie and well I feel inclined 
to bless the provinces, for I’m sure you have had suc- 
cesses. When did you come home ? ” 

Last night, dear ! Jack, my beautiful boy, come and 
kiss your old grandmother, darling ! how well he looks 
and how heavy he’s getting ” 

‘‘Yes, isn’t he glorious ? ” Violet interrupted in a burst 
of maternal pride, “ you see I take him on the river every 
day and look after him generally so much more than I do 
when John is at home.” 

Mrs. Grove put her grandson off her lap, and took off 
her gloves as she remarked, carelessly : 

“ I saw Mr. Phillipps-Twysden in Plymouth yesterday. 
3 


66 


TI/AT OTHER WOMAN, 


He looked very well. Is he going to establish a branch 
business there ? ” 

In Plymouth ? ” 

“Yes, dear, in Plymouth,^^ Mrs. Grove replied cheerily. 
“ I was driving through George Street, and I saw him riding 
with a group of extremely nice-looking people. My 
manager was with me, and I remarked to him ‘ That’s my 
son-in-law,’ and the foolish man nearly stopped the cab, 
thinking I wanted to speak to him. Imagine Mr. Twysden’s 
feelings if I had spoken to him ? ” and she laughed lightly, 
and gave a rapid imitation of her son-in-law’s look of stern 
contemptuous amazement. 

“But it wasn’t John! He’s in Amsterdam. I heard 
from him two days ago,” Violet said slowly ; “ he will be 
there for a month longer at least, and he had been there 
for a week when he wrote. You were mistaken.” 

Mrs. Grove looked at her daughter — and saw that in her 
daughter’s face which frightened her into saying : 

“ No doubt I was mistaken, it was a strange likeness, 
that was all.” 

“ Yet you know John’s face so well,” Violet went on 
uneasily. “ I should pick him out among a thousand at 
once. Riding with nice-looking people, you say 1 and he 
has been in Plymouth. I wonder who they were ? ” 

“ Why should you wonder ; he being in Amsterdam, you 
can’t possibly have any interest in the people who were 
riding with the man who looked like him. Now take me 
round your gardens, Vi, dear, and I’ll tell you my pro- 
gramme. To-morrow I go down West again — Bath, Bristol, 
Plymouth, Truro, and Penzance ; and while I am away you 
must go and cheer up your father. Take Jack to see him, 
that’s the greatest pleasure you can give him.” 

“ Certainly. Oh, yes I but, mother, could you have been ’ 
mistaken ? 

“ I was, without doubt, as your husband writes to you 
from Amsterdam. My dear Violet, don’t look so tragic 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


67 


about it. Come ! tell me about this new friend, Lady 
Susan Meadows ? Susan, why should the great of the 
earth stick to hideous names just because their unculti- 
vated ancestors bore them ? 

You’d cease to think Susan a hideous name if you 
knew my new friend, mother. She’s a dear woman. I 
don’t wonder at old Lady Halford having set her heart on 
Susan for Sir Lionel.” 

He hasn’t set his heart on Lady Susan yet, has he ? ” 
Mrs. Grove asked, laughingly. She was mother of this 
woman on whom Sir Lionel had set his heart, and it 
pleased her maternal vanity that he should remain faithful. 

No, he’s obstinate and obtuse about the matter,” Violet 
said, absently. Then she added, with sudden sparkling 
animation — 

“ Mother, I haven’t had a change since we came to 
Weybridge. I’m not wanted at home now. Why shouldn’t 
Jack and I go with you on your next tour. I weary for 
you, mother, so often when you’re away. Why shouldn’t 
we go with you ? Let me come, I have set my heart 
on it.” 

The life wouldn’t suit you, Violet, and I’m afraid the 
knowledge that you were present, jealously imagining that 
I was not getting half enough applause, would demoralise 
and make me nervous.” 

‘T’ll promise to be stoically indifferent to your success 
— let me come ! ” 

The earnestness with which she pleaded her request 
carried the day against her mother's reasonable conviction 
that the plan was an unwise one. 

The following day, in brilliant, almost feverishly high 
spirits, Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, accompanied by her little 
son, met her mother at the Paddington terminus, and went 
down to Bath. The first night’s success there was of such 
an unequivocal character that Mrs. Grove resolved to 
adventure upon a second night’s entertainment, with slight 


68 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


change of programme. On the third day they went on to 
Plymouth, and took rooms at the Royal Hotel for a week. 

They reached Plymouth early in the day, and after 
luncheon Mrs. Grove proposed that they should go out 
and take a turn up George Street and upon the Hoe. It 
was all new to Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, so she assented 
without a grumble to the George Street portion of the pro- 
gramme, though her maternal instincts were in favor of the 
sunny Hoe and its grand sea breezes, solely on Jack’s 
account. Still she sympathised with her mother’s natural 
professional desire to see for herself whether or not her 
agent had been advertising her properly by a judicious 
mixture of large letterings on hoardings, and cleverly 
touched-up photographs of her mature charms in shop 
windows. Accordingly they went down the steps of the 
Royal Hotel about three o’clock, and were crossing over 
to Derry’s clock just as a neat little dog-cart, driven by a 
young lady with an elderly one by her side, and a young 
groom sitting behind, dashed past rapidly, but not so 
rapidly as to allow of its occupants escaping notice. 

That pretty girl is one of the party who were riding 
with the man who looked something like your husband, 
Violet,” Mrs. Grove observed carelessly, and simultane- 
ously the young lady in the dog-cart was exclaiming — 

‘‘ What a pretty woman and boy. Strangers I should 
think ! Did you notice them ? ” 

Probably she belongs to the new regiment that’s just 
come to the Raglan Barracks. By-the-way, Flo, make 
your husband call on the regiment when you’re settled. 
Then you’ll have so much society that I shan’t be always 
dreading he will take you away because you find it dull.” 

When he is my husband. I’ll settle about that. Come 
on quick now. He has to meet us at the photographer’s 
at half-past three, you know. Come quick ! ” It seemed 
to Florence Arle that her elder companion was an unrea- 
sonably long time shaking the dust off her garments and 


THAI' OTHER WOMAN, 


69 


generally readjusting herself after their long drive as they 
stood in the yard of the Royal Hotel. For the girl had to 
meet an ardent and impatient lover, whereas her friend 
had nothing better in store than the prospect of witnessing 
the meeting. 

But presently the dust was fairly shaken off, and the two 
ladies started to keep their appointment with Phillipps at 
one of the first photographers in George Street. About 
the same time, Mrs. Grove, Violet, and Jack were posing 
in an ecstacy of delight outside the same photographer’s 
window, gazing at a most agreeable representation of Mrs. 
Grove in her most dramatic attitude, in one of her most 
celebrated pieces. 

There’s that charming-looking woman and her lovely 
boy again,” Florence Arle whispered to her friend as they 
passed into the shop. Then she straightway forgot all 
about the charming looking woman and her lovely boy, for 
down the centre of the shop came Mr. Phillipps, her dis- 
tinguished-looking lover, to greet her eagerly. 

As he did so Mrs. Grove stepped just inside the door- 
way, half turning round as she did so to remark to her 
daughter that ‘Hhis would be a good place to have Jack 
taken ; they succeed admirably with children here, Violet. 
Let us have Jack taken climbing a mast ! he’ll make a lovely 
picture.” 

Mr. John Phillipps, Florence Arle’s affianced 'lover, 
heard these words, uttered in the voice he hated most on 
earth, and scuttled away into the dimmest recesses of the 
shop as fast as his legs could carry him. 


70 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


CHAPTER X. 

MR. PHILLIPPS-TWYSDEN FEELS ILL. 

In perfect unconsciousness of the close proximity of her 
husband, Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden followed her mother into 
the shop, and stood for some minutes negotiating with the 
master of it for half a dozen panel-portraits of little Jack, 
to be taken the following day. Jack meanwhile skirm- 
ished about, and made his way at last into the long dark 
passage which led to the waiting-room. In this room, 
Phillipps-Twysden stood, half concealed by a huge stand 
of photographs. 

Here comes that sweet little golden-haired boy,” 
Florence said, drawing Mrs. Broadhurst’s attention to the 
handsome bold little invader. 

‘‘For Heaven’s sake keep the child away from here ; 
lead him back to his nurse or mother, or whoever she 
may be ! ” Jack’s father whispered irritably ; and Florence 
obeyed him, wondering the while at this unwonted display 
of temper on the part of her ordinarily lively, good-tem- 
pered lover. As she put her finger into his hand and led 
him back to the shop, she asked the little fellow’s name, 
and he gave it out loudly, being rather proud of his own 
pronunciation of it. 

“Jackie Philbs-Tisden, and that’s my pa-pa’s name, 
too ; ” and Florence stooped and kissed him as she de- 
livered him up to his mother, and spoke a word or two 
of admiration that won the other woman’s heart. Mean- 
while Mr. Phillipps-Twysden peeped from behind the 
friendly shelter of the stand at them, and in his impatience 
and dread of detection almost cursed his wife for being 
there. 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


71 


‘‘ It’s that horrible mother of hers who’s arranged this 
plan — she must have seen me when she was down here 
making a fool of herself the other day,” he thought. And 
then a fierce dread of an immediate exposure and conse- 
quent loss of Florence beset him, and he muttered an 
entreaty to Mrs. Broadhurst to go and fetch Flo back.” 

Why don’t you go yourself? ” that blunt lady asked, 
and he muttered an excuse that he felt ill, a sudden 
stitch in the left side — a thing that always alarmed him 
when it came on, as he feared it indicated a weak heart.” 

‘‘ Fiddle-de-de ! ” was Mrs. Broadhurst’s unsympathetic 
reply, your heart’s strong enough. However, if you feel 
ill, come along back to the hotel, and rest while Florence 
and I do our shopping.” 

She was making for the dark passage as she spoke, taking 
it for granted that he was following her ; but, having to 
step aside to make room for a tall, handsome, matronly 
woman to pass her, she looked back, and saw Mr. Phil- 
lipps hastily making for the staircase that led to the dress- 
ing-rooms and the atelier where the photographs were 
taken. 

Someone else caught sight of his vanishing back also, 
and that was the tall, handsome, matronly lady for whom 
Mrs. Broadhurst had stood aside, and who, of course, 
was none other than his much-detested mother-in-law. 
She recognised him, and was on the point of calling him 
by name, but a feeling partly of dread and partly of con- 
tempt stopped her. 

‘‘The wretched creature wants to avoid Violet ! AVell, 
a meeting with her would be no pleasure, and only spoil 
her holiday, poor child,” Mrs. Grove thought, as she 
marched with head erect to inspect some of the photo- 
graphs on that stand behind which Mr. Phillipps-Twysden 
had been hiding. She did not for an instant suspect that 
he stood in any other relation to the buxom country lady 
and the young girl who was with her than that of a mere 


72 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


casual acquaintance, or she would have risked a scene and 
denounced him on the spot. As it was, her one anxiety was 
now to get Violet out of the shop without encountering 
her husband. So, after cursorily glancing at the photo- 
graphs, she turned back and rejoined her daughter. 

“ Let us go up on the Hoe and give Jack some sea air,” 
she said aloud, ‘Hhe streets stifle me to-day. Come, 
Violet, I want the sea air as much as Jack does if I am 
to get through my work to night.” 

‘‘Who are those ladies? ” Florence Arle asked, and the 
attendant behind the counter told her that “ the elder lady 
is the celebrated Mrs. Grove. She gives her musical and 
dramatic entertainment to-night. The young lady is a 
stranger, perhaps she may have joined Mrs. Grove in the 
entertainment, which is considered a verv good one.” 
Then one of Mrs. Grove’s bills was handed to Florence, 
who stood thoughtfully reading it till she was joined by 
Mrs. Broadhurst. 

“ Where is John ? ” she then asked, “I want to go to 
this,” handing the bill of the entertainment to her friend 
as she spoke, “and I want you to stay in Plymouth to- 
morrow, like the dear you are. You will, won’t you ? ” 

“ I’m but a frivolous old thing, and very fond of any- 
thing that promises a little amusing excitement, so I’ll stay 
if youVe set your heart on going, Flo ! ” 

“ I have, indeed ; I’m quite fascinated by the look of 
Mrs. Grove. Where is John? He must go and send six- 
penny telegrams to mamma and Mr. Broadhurst, telling 
them not to expect us to-night.” 

“ Mr. Phillipps complains of feeling poorly ; he has gone 
up to rest in the gentlemen’s waiting-room. Shall we send 
for him?” 

“ Poor, dear fellow, if he’s ill I won’t think of staying ; 
we’ll go at once and take him back with us and mamma 
shall nurse him. She^s as perfect a nurse as she is every- 
thing else. Will you send for Mr. Phillipps and ask if he 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


73 


is well enough to come down ? ” she went on eagerly to 
the attendant, who went on the mission and presently re- 
turned, followed by Mr. Phillipps, that gentleman having 
assured himself by enquiry that the obnoxious Mrs. Grove 
and her companion had left the shop. 

“ i\re you ill? — are you better ? ” Florence asked in one 
breath ; and he, rebounding into high spirits in a moment, 
now that the fear of immediate detection was over and 
the painful tension relaxed, replied hilariously : 

‘‘ Never better in my life. It was nothing but a passing 
stitch in my side, as Mrs. Broadhurst said. I’m game for 
anything you like now.” 

Well, listen to our plan, then ! Mrs. Broadhurst and 
I want to stay in Plymouth to-night, so you must send 
telegrams to Mr. Broadhurst and mamma. Do you hear ? ” 

You want to go to the theatre ? ” he asked cheerfully, 
feeling that at the theatre they would be quite safe from 
the ghastly chance of meeting either his wife or her mother. 
The latter would be making a fool of herself at some 
hall or other in her own entertainment,” he knew. 

No, not the theatre, something quite as delightful, 
though,” Florence explained brightly. Have you ever 
heard of a Mrs. Grove ? Look ! here she is ! ” They 
were passing a piano shop at the moment, in whose win- 
dow a full-length portrait of Mrs. Grove in one of her 
numerous characters was displayed. It was of this 
portrait Florence spoke when she said, Look ! here she 
is ! ” but her lover’s guilty conscience made him fancy that 
she was speaking of Mrs. Grove in the flesh, and with a 
smothered oath he crossed the street rapidly and entered 
a confectioner’s. 

‘^John must be ill!” Florence said pityingly, as she 
and Mrs. Broadhurst followed him. He turned awfully 
white, did you see ? ” 

I thought he looked odd 1 ” Mrs. Broadhurst said 
drily. She was conscious of vaguely suspecting the man 


74 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


of something, but her thoughts were in disorder and the i 
suspicions were quite formless as yet. I don’t believe i 
it’s his heart, I believe he is frightened,” she said to her ' 
self, as she waited outside while Florence went in to en- ' 
quire in affectionate solicitude if “ John felt ill again ! ” 

“ Yes, I do, my darling ! ” he answered impatiently, 
so ill that I can’t walk back to the hotel. If Mrs. Broad- ' 
hurst and you will go and do your shopping and send the 
first cab you meet here for me. I’ll go back and rest in my 
own room for an hour or two. I’m afraid you’ll have to 
go to this entertainment (it cost him an effort to speak of 
it) alone, you two ladies, to-night, for I want to be well 
enough to go home with you to-morrow, Flo, therefore I 
had better rest as much as I can to day. Don’t be 
alarmed, dear, a few hours’ rest will set me all right again.” j 
Greatly disappointed, and wondering not a little, j 
Florence had to accept these conditions, and leave him 
while she went first for a cab and then to do her shopping. j 
But she went about her work in a half-hearted way that 
revealed her stifled anxiety to Mrs. Broadhurst, who was 
growing more suspicious of something being wrong every 
minute, but whose suspicions were still formless. 

Meantime, Mr. Phillipps had shot out of the shop and 
into the cab, with a celerity that was quite incompatible 
with weakness or suffering. He had then shrunk into a , 
corner and pulled his hat well down over his brow, and ' 
given the order for the cab to be driven into the yard of 
the Royal, in order that he might enter the hotel by the i 

less public side-entrance. If once he could gain the | 

friendly shelter of his own bed-room, there he would re- j 
main, he was resolved, until such time as Mrs. Grove’s 
engagements should take her away from Plymouth. He 
hated his wife at this juncture almost as much as he did 
her mother ; and regarded it as a piece of gross disobe- 
dience and disloyalty to himself that Violet should have 
left her home in such company during his absence. “ Such 


TI/A7^ OTHER WOMAN. 


75 


conduct proved that she deserved neither my love nor 
confidence,” he told himself, holding himself more and 
more blameless, as he persuaded himself to regard Violet's 
action in a more and more culpable light each moment. 

To drag the innocent boy about in the train of that 
woman when she's what she calls ‘ on tour,' too ! It is 
unpardonable ! disgusting ! It justifies anything I may do. 

Nevertheless, justifiable as he felt his conduct to be, 
he shrank from coming into contact with either his wife or 
her mother, and so possibly being compelled to justify it. 
The way in which he slid into the side-entrance and up 
the stairs of the hotel, into his own room, would have 
been suggestive of anything rather than happy security in 
his own position, had anyone seen him who knew the 
case. 

He caught a glimpse of his own pale face in the glass, 
and felt that his hand trembled as he poured himself out 
a thimbleful of brandy. 

If I can only get Florence home before that cursed 
woman sees me, things will arrange themselves,” he mut- 
tered as he strove to stand upright, and pretended to him- 
self that he would presently go down to the coffee-room 
and take a manly interest in the London dailies, which 
would be coming in about this time. 

But the pretence failed ! For as he opened his bedroom 
door, he caught sight of his little son careering along the 
corridor, and heard Violet’s voice cautioning her boy not 
to make a noise and disturb people.” 

“ My God, what a net I'm in, what a net I’m in ! ” he 
thought, as he hastily closed the door and locked it 
against all enemies — save the devil, who was in possession 
of him. 


76 


THAI OTHER WOMAN. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A MASCULINE POINT OF VIEW. 

Florence Arle spent all her money and a couple of 
hours full of extremely mixed feelings in three or four of 
Plymouth’s most seductive shops that day. The girl had 
no unreasonable caprices or fads to gratify, therefore she 
made the work of selection of materials short and easy 
work for those who served her as a rule. But this day 
her mind was disturbed by little anxious thoughts, and 
little worrying, baseless forebodings, and she could not 
decide upon what she wanted with her usual promptitude 
and vigor. 

As a matter of course she, being very much in love with 
him, not only believed the illness with which Mr. Phillipps 
had been seized to be thoroughly genuine, but she exagger- 
ated the symptoms, and pestered Mrs. Broadhurst by 
dragging forth her opinions concerning them. 

Do you think he has a weak heart?” she began 
questioning, and Mrs. Broadhurst, touched by the girl’s 
quivering lips and wistful eyes, answered : 

‘‘ No, my dear, not a weak heart ! ” and refrained from 
adding that she thought he had a bad one. 

Did you see how white he turned, that dreadful ashen 
look that mother always says means heart-mischief, when 
we were walking along George Street ? ” Florence per- 
sisted. 

I saw he looked pale, but Mr. Phillipps is never ruddy, 
Flo. Now, my dear child, give your mind to this white 
silk, or your wedding-dress will never be ready.” 

I know what I should like to do,” Florence said, 
thoughtfully, you must help me to persuade mother to 


THAT other woman. 


11 


let me do it. I should like to be married in the habit I 
wore that first day I met John at your house, and instead 
of going back to a breakfast I should like to ride straight 
away from the church door on the Performer colt I’ve 
broken in since I’ve been engaged to John. Uncle Joe 
has given me the colt for my very own, and I mix it up 
with John to a great extent, and we should feel as if we 
all belonged so very much to one another if we rode away 
into the world and the new life together. 

Mrs. Broadhurst nearly choked in her efforts to suppress 
any visible sign of emotion. The effort imparted a cold- 
ness she was far from feeling to her reply. 

I am never an advocate for a departure into the 
doubtful land of sentimentality, and it seems to me that 
such a wedding tour would look affected and outre in the 
eyes of the neighborhood.” 

The neighborhood needn’t concern itself with us. I’m 
only Joe Cadly’s niece to the neighborhood, and John is a 
stranger.” 

‘‘ Well, dear, let me add, I don’t think your mother 
would like it, and may I further plead that I shouldn’t like 
it either. I want you to go forth as Mrs. Phillipps with 
all honorable publicity ” 

But John hates fuss and show 1 ” 

“ There need be no fuss, and he ought to be proud to 
show you to his family. Who of them are coming to it, 
Flo ? ” 

He has no relations. Uncle Joe has questioned and 
bothered him a good deal, I’m afraid. I’m glad to think 
that I shall have him all to myself, but dear old Uncle Joe 
seems to think that it would ' add materially to my 
happiness if I could be phinged into the midst of a lot of 
new uncles and aunts and cousins.” 

Mrs. Broadhurst gave an abrupt sigh, checked it, and 
turned it into a laugh as Florence’s eyes fixed themselves 
on hers reproachfully. 


78 


TBAT OTHER WOMAN. 


If Mr. Phillipps will bring two or three old friends to 
the wedding, I’ll persuade your mother to let you ride 
away from the church door, but they must be nice friends, 
married men and their wives, my dear, not frisky bachelors, 
who think little of having a wife in every port, and nothing 
of the girls they leave behind them when the route 
comes.” 

Florence laughed out brightly. ‘‘We’ll go back to the 
Royal and have some tea, and John shall describe some 
of his married friends, and we’ll ‘ sample ’ them. Probably 
they’re all swells who will turn up their noses at the 
horse-breeder’s niece, until they hear what papa is and 
what he would have been if he hadn’t been afflicted.” 

“ We’ll hear about them, whatever they may be,” Mrs. 
Broadhurst declared. But they were not destined to do 
this yet awhile. On their sending up to tell Mr. Phillipps 
they were waiting for him to have tea with them in the 
ladies’ drawing-room, the message came back that “ Mr. 
Phillipps still felt too poorly to leave his room; would 
they have tea without him, and promise to please him 
greatly by going to the entertainment as proposed without 
regarding him.” 

“ It will be unfeeling to go,” said Florence. 

“ It will be idiotic to remain here doing nothing because 
Mr. Phillipps has a nervous headache,” said Mrs. Broad- 
hurst. Her influence kicked the beam, and so it came to 
pass that by-and-bye Phillipps-Twysden had the satisfaction 
of hearing that the ladies of his party had gone out for 
the evening. 

“ They’ll be in good time, sir,” the waiter added, “ for 
Mrs. Grove’s cab’s at the door, and she and her party are 
just starting.” 

“ Freed from the lot of them for this night, at least ! ” 
Phillipps-Twysden thought complacently, and on the 
strength of this sensation of security he ordered an agree- 
able little dinner to be ready for him in the coffee-room in 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


79 


half-an-hoiir. Meanwhile, he glanced over his various 
correspondence which had come in by a late post, and 
had the satisfaction of ascertaining that his House ” had 
just secured an exorbitantly remunerative contract. 

Violet will not have to complain of a reduced establish- 
ment, at any rate,” he thought self-appro vingly, as he 
stepped out into the corridor on his way down to the 
dinner he was so well prepared to enjoy. He had been 
fasting unintentionally since his early breakfast, and now 
that all his feminine environments were safely out of the 
way, “ entertaining’^ and being “ entertained,” he allowed 
himself to look forward with a hungry man’s wholesome 
appetite to the dinner that was awaiting him. 

But as he stepped into the corridor he received a shock 
and his appetite fled. Rushing along, breathless and 
laughing, came a child, followed by a lady, and as they 
pulled up abruptly close to him, checked by his presence, 
he recognised his wife and son, and was recognised simul- 
taneously by them. 

In one instant he decided upon his plan of action. He 
would sternly reprove Violet for having dared to leave her 
home in his absence without his permission, and so carry 
the war into her quarters. But before he could speak 
Jack had sprung at him, crying out, Papa ! here’s papa ! ” 
and Violet had uttered an exclamation of amazement and 
consternation. 

John ! John ! you here ” she had said loud enough for 
the chambermaid to hear her at the other end of the 
passage ; and then she had gone to him and held up her 
face for him to kiss, and altogether behaved in a way that 
roused the virtuous curiosity of the chambermaid to a 
maddening pitch, and caused that functionary to pres- 
ently murmur her suspicions to her colleague that Mrs. 
Grove’s daughter was no better than she should be.” 

I am shocked and horrified at meeting you here. You 
must explain your conduct very fully before I can greet 


So 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


you as my wife,” he said loftily, in his lowest tone. Put 
the boy to bed, and then if your conduct is defensible, 
come to me and defend it. You will find me in that private 
sitting-room just opposite.” 

She looked at him with such cold indignation in her 
eyes, that for a moment his false courage deserted him, 
and his hardened heart throbbed painfully. 

When we meet, and an explanation takes place between 
us, it will not be my conduct that will have to be defended,” 
she said quietly. Then she took hold firmly of Jack’s 
hand, and told him in unsubdued tones, that reached the 
ears of the chambermaid, to say ‘‘ Good-night to his father, 
and come to bed.” 

He went on to the coffee-room and fortified himself for 
what was to follow by eating a good dinner ; but his 
appetite was gone, he did not enjoy it. Still, he com- 
pelled himself to eat, for he knew that his nerves would be 
strengthened and his brain made clearer by the food. 
When he had dined he wrote two notes. One he addressed 
to Mrs. Grove, the other to Mrs. Broadhurst. The con- 
tents of the first were as follows : 

Madam : — Until Violet returns to her home and ceases 
to hold any intercourse with you, I decline to meet or hold 
intercourse with her. 

Phillipps-Twysden.” 

To Mrs. Broadhurst he wrote : 

‘‘ Dear Mrs. Broadhurst : — You had scarcely left the 
hotel this evening when I received a telegram summoning 
me to Town on the omnipotent ^House’s’ business. I 
hope, by going up through the night, that I may get 
through my work in the City in time to come down again 
to-morrow evening, when I shall drive straight from the 
station to the Arles’. Tell Flo, with my love, that I trust 
this will be my last journey alone ! I am quite anxious to 
see the result of your shopping to-day, and hope that all 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


8i 


the wedding-garments will be ready in a week, or I shall 
take her away without them. 

Yours sincerely, 

‘‘ John Phillipps.’' 

In a few minutes he had paid his bill, packed, and 
ordered a hansom. As he was stepping into it, he called 
the hall-porter and gave him the note for Mrs. Broadhurst, 
to be delivered to that lady on her return. The chamber- 
maid already had charge of and orders respecting the 
missive for Mrs. Grove. 

Violet’s devilish pride will prevent her making a row 
and causing an exposure,” he told himself as the train 
rushed through the darkness, bearing him rapidly towards 
the great city where he and his iniquities would be safe 
from the importunities and investigations of the two 
women whom he had wronged so hideously. No softening 
thought of the sorrow, strengthened by suspicion, which 
must of necessity be Violet’s portion, entered his mind to 
oppress it. But he was annoyed when he reflected that 
his sudden, almost unexplained departure, would cause 
Florence disappointment and anxiety. Worse still ! it 
would arouse anew that exasperating curiosity which Mrs. 
Broadhurst was apt to display about him. 

“ That infernal woman will soon be at the bottom of the 
whole thing if she gets hold of Mrs. Grove, and my precious 
mother-in-law will paint a pretty picture of me for my poor 
Flo to hang up in her mental gallery for the rest of her 
life,” he told himself savagely. There was no pathos in 
the situation as far as the women were concerned to him. 
But when he remembered little Jack a lump came into his 
throat. 

‘‘ The little chap ran to me as if he loved me. If Violet 
doesn’t let him go on loving me, she’s a worse woman than 
I take her to be ; but there’s no knowing what spirit of 
vindictiveness that mother of hers may succeed in implant- 
ing in her. An unprincipled old hag like that wouldn’t 
stick even at robbing a father of the love of his child.” 


82 


T//AT OTHER WOMAN, 


He took quite a pleasant, self-satisfied view of his own 
character and actions as he contrasted them with those of 
Mrs. Grove. He had never led a wife to fly in the face of 
her husband by luring her to go on tour” with him in a 
fifth-rate entertainment in that husband’s absence from 
home. Me had never degraded his family by making an 
ass of himself in public — by singing without a voice, acting 
without any histrionic talent or dramatic feeling, and 
exhibiting these failures at low prices in second-rate 
Institutes and Guild halls to third-rate audiences. His 
superiority to these weaknesses of Mrs. Grove led him to 
place himself immeasurably above her in the moral and 
social scale. It was astonishing how readily Mrs. Grove’s 
character adapted itself to the lower place which he 
assigned it in his estimation, and how his own soared to 
purer heights by comparison. ‘‘ That woman will have 
much to answer for ; I hold her accountable for much in 
Violet’s conduct which has made the prospect of life lived 
with Violet alone insupportable to me,” was one of his last 
waking thoughts. Then he slumbered till the train ran 
into Paddington, and as he travelled in a first-class car- 
riage with plenty of rugs, he slumbered comfortably. 

Mrs. Broadhurst and her charge returned to the Royal 
in good spirits. They had thoroughly enjoyed Mrs. 
Grove’s entertainment — they were not hypercritical about 
singing and acting, but allowed themselves to be pleased 
with what amused them. It was a disappointment to 
Florence that the graceful, pretty woman whom she had 
seen in the photographer’s shop took no part in the per- 
formance, because the girl had been interested in Violet’s 
sweet, clever, sorrowful face. Still Mrs. Grove kept the 
interest of the house well centred upon herself and Florence 
enjoyed herself. 

But when they reached the hotel and the hall-porter 
gave Mr. Phillipps’ note to Mrs. Broadhurst, Florence’s 
alarm and anxiety obliterated all recollection of past 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 83 

pleasure, and she was desperately and unfeignedly miser- 
able. 

The business is only a ruse^ I’m certain,” she 
exclaimed, and Mrs. Broadhurst, who was inclined to 
think the same thing, though her reasons for coming to 
such a conclusion were widely different from Florence’s, 
could not heartily combat the girl’s fears. 

“ He is ill — much worse than he made out, and he’s 
gone to consult a doctor.” 

‘‘ I don’t believe he’s ill a bit,” Mrs. Broadhurst said 
stolildy, ‘‘ if you are going to worry yourself about every- 
thing he does without informing you, your life with that 
man will be a miserable one, Florence.” 

‘‘ I shall never want to pry into his private business 
when I’m his wife, but now if they find out at home that 
he has gone without telling me why he went they will 
wonder and speculate about it. At least Uncle Joe will — 
he likes to invest John’s simplest actions with mystery.” 

‘‘ Your Uncle Joe will never judge any man unjustly? 
Flo.” 

Now, you’re suspecting something,” Florence said 
irritably. She was so sensitive in her anxiety about her 
lover that she fancied every man’s hand was against him 
at this juncture, and she was angry with herself also. For, 
at the bottom of this intense sensitiveness concerning him, 
she knew there was an undefined fear of an undefined 
something in his past career which might rise up some 
day to her lasting pain and his injury. 

In this frame of mind she went home the following day, 
trying her hardest to bear herself light-heartedly and 
cheerfully. But her Uncle Joe saw through the pretence, 
and his honest old heart foreboded ill for his pet, but not 
such woeful ill as that which was before her in reality. 

The coward ! the pitiful false coward ! ” was Mrs. 
Grove’s mental comment on her son-in-law’s letter. But 
to her daughter she said no harder words of him than she 


84 


TJ7AT OTHER WOMAN. 


might have used had his sole offence been his dislike to 
herself. 

Your husband’s antipathy to me seems to be strength- 
ening, my dear child, so I mustn’t counsel you to fly in 
his face by going on with me as we had proposed,” she 
said as she handed his letter to Violet. 

“ You don’t mean that you advise me to go home, 
mother, after his deceiving me as he has done, pretending 
to be in Holland on business when he was here on 
pleasure all the time.” 

“You mustn’t give him any cause of complaint against 
you. How did he seem when you met him? ” 

“ Cold as ice,” Violet said concisely, “ nearly as cold as 
I was myself.” 

“ My poor child ! I dare not say what I feel about him. 
He is your husband, he has given you no cause to leave 
him ! As your mother, the only advice I can give you is 
to go home and bear your trial patiently, and, above all, 
try, for your boy’s sake, to avoid quarrels and a separation. 
A mother is bound to suffer anything rather than deprive 
her child of either its father’s or her own care. Couples 
who separate damage their children inevitably, though 
there may be no dishonor in the separation. For Jack’s 
sake bear your real and fancied wrongs patiently, and 
never commit the mistake of leaving your home.” 

“ You appear to forget that he makes our living together 
conditional on my giving you up, ’’Violet sobbed. “ O, 
mother, mother ! how shall I live my wretched life with- 
out the comfort of seeing you occasionally. You are my 
sustaining power ? If he robs me of that he will soon 
break me down utterly.” 

“ No, no, Violet, the back will be fitted to the burden,” 
Mrs. Grove said, with a mighty effort at cheerfulness that 
spoke volumes for the unselfish strength and purity of her 
motherly love — “Your love will be with me always, my 
darling, mine with you ; but your first duty is to your 
husband and your child.” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


85 


CHAPTER XII. 

SOME OF LADY SUSAN’S VIEWS. 

The Phillipps-Twysdens are home again at last ! ” people 
about Weybridge said to one another. There had been a 
little gossip about the long absence of the master of the 
house at one time, for though Violet had always answered 
cheerfully when questioned that it was the odious 
business which kept him away,” the majority had not 
believed her. It was known he and his wife’s parents 
were not on friendly terms, and the charitable many put it 
down to the account against the Groves that they had ‘‘ not 
only muddled away their own money,, but had behaved 
shabbily to that charming Phillipps-Twysden by leading him 
to suppose he would have a fortune with his wife,” of 
which their bankruptcy had defrauded him. On the 
whole, therefore, though Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden was a 
popular and well-liked woman, she was held to be an 
extremely fortunate one, and one who owed a deep debt 
of gratitude to her rich, prosperous, lavish husband. 

Acting on her mother’s advice, Violet had gone home 
the day following that awkward reficontre with her 
husband in the Royal Hotel, and there she had found him 
awaiting her, and ready to receive any explanation of her 
conduct which she might have to offer in a calmly judicial 
spirit. The way in which he had put her in the wrong 
place and made her feel she had been rash, imprudent and 
guilty of wilful indiscretions and disobedience, almost 
paralysed her faculties, and quite robbed her of the power 
of counter-questioning him. 

I’ll look over it this time, but, mind you, Violet, this 


86 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


must never occur again,” he said with an air of closing the 
subject when she explained to him that as she had believed 
him to be in Amsterdam she had thought it no harm to go 
down to Plymouth with her mother. 

‘‘ My business is like an octopus, it stretches in all 
manners of unforeseen directions, and as I am the vital 
spark of it, there is no knowing when or where, or how 
often, or for how long I may be called upon to go away in 
its interests. It is your duty and privilege to remain at 
home taking care of our child, and maintaining the home 
in all its peaceful beauty and integrity. I have a right to 
ask this much of you. Remember I got nothing else with 
you towards the maintenance of our home.” 

Don’t reproach me because I brought you no fortune 
” she was beginning, but he checked her. 

“ I am not idiotic enough to reproach you with the fault 
of your fraudulent old father ” 

‘‘ John ! ” 

‘‘ Don’t shriek, my dear, fury is unbecoming to you. I 
repeat I don’t reproach you with his fault, but I do claim 
that you should respect my wishes when I tell you that I 
will not allow you to have your mother here, or to travel 
with her. You may go and see her sometimes in their 
own house, that is the extent of the concession I can make. 
If you won’t accept those terms, you had better make up 
your mind to live apart from me altogether, never to see 
me again in fact.” 

He dropped the mask for a moment and looked the 
anxiety he felt that she should accept the alternative and 
part from him altogether. That look decided her ! She 
resolved that at any cost she would retain her right to her 
home and her child ! 

‘‘ It shall not be my fault if we live apart.” 

A spasm of disappointment convulsed and altered his 
face out of resemblance to the one she had fallen in love 
with, and she added bitterly : 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


87 


I shall still do for a housekeeper, and as while I live 
you can’t marry again, tired as you may be of me, I will 
stay here and exercise my privilege to the utmost. You 
shall not have to complain of my leaving the house again, 
and mamma will never come here when she understands 
that her presence in her daughter’s house may force her 
daughter into even a falser position than the one she 
occupies now.” 

‘‘ Don’t pose as a martyr, or if you do, don’t expect me 
to pose as a tyrant.” He laughed lightly, having quite 
recovered his usual cool, indifferent, self-possessed manner. 
On the whole matters had arranged themselves comfortably 
enough. ‘‘ If Violet liked to stick to him, she would not 
be much in his way while she elected to stay at home.” 
That was the way he put it ! She was the mother of the 
boy, and would take more care of the boy than any hire- 
ling would take, therefore it was as well, perhaps, that she 
should refuse to give him that absolute liberty which a 
formal separation would ensure him. By-and-bye, when 
the boy was older, a different arrangement might be advis- 
able. But for the present he was quite contented to let 
the existing state of things continue undisturbed. 

So, for a few days, he stayed at home, going to the City 
daily, and taking care to have people to dine with them 
every night. The narrow escape from the great danger of 
detection which he had had down at Plymouth made him 
feel quite light-hearted and good-tempered. By Jove ! 
but it was a narrow squeak for it, both of them on the 
spot,” he thought with a complacent chuckle, as he recalled 
the episode in the photographer’s shop. I should have 
said the right thing and come out of it scathless, I’ve no 
doubt, even if they had closed me in between them. But 
what should I have said? That’s the mischief of it. I 
shall never know how brilliant a disarmer I might have 
uttered.” 

These and similar ideas coursed through his brain fre- 


88 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


qiiently, until he began to regard his relations with his \ 
wife and Florence Arle as a big and agreeably complicated 
game of chess — which he was bound to win finally, he ^ 
being an expert, and his opponents mere tyros at it. 
Meanwhile he thought out his next move exhaustively, and 
at the same time endeared himself more than ever to his 
loving little son. 

‘‘ A great deal of my misery must be my own fault. '■ 

John’s tenderness to our boy ought to cover all his faults 
of neglect towards me,” Violet would often think, as she 
watched her husband’s untiring efforts to please and amuse 
the bright, erratic minded little boy, who had an insatiable 
greed for change of occupation. It roused a little jealous 
feeling in her overtried heart that the child should turn ^ 
from her with rapturous delight when his father proposed 
a ride on a miniature pony or a row on the river. With 
the unconscious selfishness of child-love Jack never thought 
of asking his mother to go with him on these occasions. 

He had papa,” and that was enough. ‘‘ Papa ” would let 
him gallop without a leading-rein. Papa ” could make 
the boat fly through the water. ‘‘ Papa was big and 
strong, and always laughing and merry, whereas mamma 
often cried in these latter days. In fact, though Jack 
loved his mother dearly, he got more excitement and 
amusement out of the companionship of his father, and 
Violet tried to feel grateful to her husband for the pleasure 
he gave their child, and strove resolutely to keep regretful 
and repining thoughts concerning herself at bay. 

During these few days of domesticity at Weyb ridge, 
Phillipps-Twysden was in a very contradictory and un- 
settled state of mind. There were moments when he felt 
that it would be more prudent and pleasanter in the long 
run if he suffered Florence Arle and his projects about her 
to slip away into the limbo of forgotten and neglected 
things. It would be easy enough to do it. They only 
knew him as John Phillipps ; the name was common enough 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


89 


and they would get on a hundred wrong scents if they did 
try to run him to earth. But Flo would never let them 
do it — the darling ! ” he thought, and the thought made 
him feel more keenly desirous of seeing that darling again, 
though to do so would be to court her destruction and his 
own. 

So, instead of letting her slip away from him, he spent 
hours at his club writing letters full of true passion and 
false promise to her ; giving such a plausible account of 
himself and the business that had taken him back to town 
that even Uncle Joe was bound to admit himself satisfied 
with the fellow.’’ 

One day he went home earlier than usual, and found 
Violet had a visitor, and he was a prey to mixed feelings 
when that visitor told him that ‘‘her father and his uncle 
were very old and staunch friends.” 

“ So you see, I knew all about you before I had the plea- 
sure of meeting with your wife,” Lady Susan said frankly. 
“ And now that I know you better, you must let me take 
Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden home with me and introduce her 
to those dear old people.” 

“ I think Violet had better wait for their invitation.” 

“ Ah ! that’s a mistake on your part, you make your 
wife wait for an invitation which will never be given, 
because they fancy that she’s a regular society woman 
who won’t care for them and their rustic old-fashioned 
ways.” 

“You are very good to point out my mistakes, and try 
to rectify them. Lady Suzan ! ” 

He spoke politely, but Lady Susan felt that venom 
lurked behind the suavity, and glanced uneasily from the 
husband to the wife. 

“ I hope you do not think me meddlesome and interfer- 
ing ? ” she said gently, “ pray believe that it is only my 
intense desire to see more of Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden which 
makes me want to get her down in our neighborhood to 
your own people, who are our friends.” 


90 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


I will take Violet there myself/’ he said gaily, you 
shall not make out a case of conspiracy to keep my wife 
dark against me, Lady Susan. I will take her down and 
leave her there to be taken care of the next time business 
calls me away from home for a few weeks.’’ 

It was such a brilliant inspiration this that he felt quite 
well disposed towards Lady Susan for putting it into his 
head. During those absences from his Weybridge home, 
which in the future would be more frequent and more pro- 
longed than hitherto, Violet could not be more safely dis- 
posed of than with the old people down at Houndell, who 
lived out of the world, and were contented to know noth- 
ing whatever of what took place in it. He knew that 
they would treat Violet tenderly, and make much of her 
for her own sake as well as out of regard for his unworthy 
self. Tired as he was of his wife, impatient as he always 
felt now to get away from her, little as he thought of her 
when she was out of his sight, he still had sufficient discern- 
ment of what was good left to know that the old people 
down at Houndell would prize her highly, and keep her 
with them as much as possible. He also salved his con- 
science by telling it that the country air would be beneficial 
both to his boy and his wife. And while Violet was being 
so benefited, he could bring that other one — that other 
dearer, fresher woman of whom he had not tired yet — to 
town to see a little of the London life, for which she was 
ignorantly and innocently longing. 

So, on taking all these things into account, he became 
not only reconciled to, but actually pleased with the pros- 
pect Lady Susan had put before him. The old Twysdens 
were simple-minded old people, who would believe all that 
he liked to tell them, both as regarded his past conduct in 
keeping Violet away from them, and the reason of his being 
compelled to absent himself from her so often in the 
future. 

“They’re a weak, credulous lot, luckily for me,” he 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


91 


laughed lo himself ; theyVe none of that confounded 
prying underbred curiosity about them, which distinguishes 
Flo’s friend Mrs. Broadhurst, and my precious mother-in- 
law. Violet will be quite safe from contamination in their 
unsuspicious old hands.” 

His favorable opinion of the guilelessly credulous Twys- 
dens was pointed by the sternly condemnatory view he 
felt compelled to take of Mrs. Grove’s current conduct. 
That lady had not troubled him with a lengthy reply to 
that letter which he had left for her guidance in Plymouth. 
She answered it in a few words only, but those words an- 
noyed him, though he affected to sneer at them. 

‘‘ I will find you out,” was all she wrote, but he read 
that she meant what she threatened in the formation of 
each letter. 

Lady Susan Meadows went away from the Weybridge 
house that day with a much pleasanter impression of its 
master than she had conceived it possible to have when 
first they met. He seems to adore his boy, and his 
manner to his wife was more that of a lover than of a 
husband of six years’ standing,” she told Sir Lionel Hal- 
ford afterwards. 

Then his manner must have been ridiculous,” Sir Lio- 
nel said bluntly. 

Ah ! no ! he is a clever man ; he may do bad things, 
but not silly ones. When he gathered the best flower in 
the greenhouse for his wife, and let it be seen that even in 
the matter of dinner-table decoration he will have the 
colored flowers that suit her best, he didn’t strike me as 
either affected or ridiculous at all ! I liked him for it.” 

‘‘ He takes in most people at first, but I happen to know 
that though he may study the color that suits her best on 
the dinner-table, he starves her heart. He separates her 
from her mother, and gives her nothing in exchange for 
that robbery ” 

“ How do you know that ? ” she questioned sharply. 


92 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


“You speak in a way that would mislead anyone who 
knew her less well than I do into thinking that Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden made confidences to you.” 

“ But you see I know you couldn’t fall into that error | 
about her. My mother is my informant. She tells me ; 
that Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden is notoriously an unhappy 
woman.” 

“Your mother ought to be ashamed of herself,” Lady 
Susan spoke angrily, as she felt. It was a little too much 
to hear, after all that had come and gone, that Lady Hal- 
ford was trying to rouse her son’s chivalric feeling for a 
woman towards whom it could never be displayed with 
satisfactory results to either of them. 

“Lady Halford should really let the case alone; her 4 
interference will do no more good now than it did when 
she persuaded you to introduce Mr. Phillipps-Twysden to | 
the Groves years ago. You had better listen to me, and j 
believe that Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden is a happy mother and 
a satisfied wife.” 

“ You know he won’t let her receive her mother in her 
own house.” i 

“ My dear Sir Lionel, I know that many men split on 
the mother-in-law rock. You see I don’t know Mrs. 
Grove. She may be an injudicious interfering woman, and 
against such the majority of sons-in-law kick.” 

“Ah ! but she’s not,” he put in eagerly; “she’s one of 
the nicest, cleverest women that ever worked her brain to 
pieces for the welfare of those dear to her. Don’t de- 
preciate Mrs. Grove in your desire to extenuate that fel- 
low’s conduct.” 

“ And don’t let us quarrel,” she rejoined heartily, “ take 
my advice ; think the best of him, for her sake. Nothing 
can unmarry them, you know ; therefore nothing can free 
her from the consequences of the choice she made. With 
all my heart I wish she had made another choice ! With 
all my heart I sympathise with your disinterested desire i 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


93 


for her perfect happiness. But not one woman in a thou- 
sand is born to that inheritance ; our friend is not that one 
woman I admit, still there are many compensating cir- 
cumstances in her case, and I think if you will be content- 
ed to take things as they seem we may be all very happy 
together, and see much more of each other, as become 
the members of a friendly circle in the future.” 

Then she went on to tell him how it was planned that 
Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden should be taken down at last and 
introduced by her husband to those friends of his at Houn- 
dell, from whom he still had great expectations. 

‘‘ And as we shall be down there a good deal this winter 
I shall see much more of Violet than I can ever manage to 
do in town. And if you’re good, and sensible, and unsen- 
timental, you will come and stay \Yith us, and we’ll all be 
as friendly as possible, even with the husband.” 

You’re the kindest-hearted woman in the world, Susan.” 
She laughed. Kind-heartedness isn’t a fascinating 
quality, I know ; but how have I blundered now ? ” 

‘‘ You haven’t blundered, you’ve only made me feel that 
I have done so myself. It was priggish of me to speak as 
if I could improve upon a fellow’s management of his 
domestic affairs.” 

After that long and extremely confidential conversation 
with Halford to-night, I suppose you are going to take 
refuge in marriage from the boredom of such a very pro- 
nounced friendship,” the duchess said to her daughter. 

He has no more thought of marrying me than he has 
of marrying you, mamma.” 

But if the thought ever comes to him — what then ? 
You can’t go on in this absurd ‘ old friendly ’ way for ever ! 
The fact is, Susan, you don’t know how to manage him. 
You encourage him in the folly of believing himself faithful 
to the idea of that calf-love of his for Mrs. Phillipps- 
Twysden. A practical question from me as to when he 
wished the wedding-day fixed would settle everything.” 


94 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


‘‘ I think it would ! ” 

‘^Then shall I ask the question?” 

“ Not if you wish the wedding-day ever to be settled,” 
Lady Susan said drily, and the mother thought the 
daughter’s manner ‘‘ very nasty,” and was more at sea 
than ever as to what ‘‘Susan’s intentions really were 
about Lionel Halford ! ” 

“ After all these years ! as he hasn’t married anyone 
else, he might just as well take Susan, she’ll never be 
plainer than she is now,” the duchess thought, dealing unin- 
tentionally with that question which sometimes troubled 
the male mind as to how time will treat the beloved face. 
“ A word or two from me would put things straight between 
— but there’s something about Susan that forbids my saying 
it, and probably Sir Lionel feels just as I do about it ! ” 
Probably Sir Lionel did feel the restraining influence at 
this juncture. At any rate friendship was the sole link 
between the pair when he took leave of Lady Susan that 
night. But he missed her when she went out of town, 
and was glad when he was invited to join the house-party 
down at Meadshire House, though he did not know that 
Mr. and Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden were staying with their 
friends at Houndell. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Florence’s first fears. 

“That engagement of Florence Arle’s seems to hang fire.” 

“ Can’t imagine what her people could have been think- 
ing about, to let the girl engage herself to a man who came 
here without any proper introduction.” 

“ Should have thought, for my own part, that old Joe 
Cadly would have been shrewder about a ‘deal’ of that 
kind.” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


95 

Let me see ! — What brought that man Phillipps here 
at first nominally ? ” 

Why, he’s a friend of Noel’s, and was staying with 
Noel for a long time. He’s all right enough ! The Broad- 
hursts know all about him. Mrs. Broadhurst made up the 
match, in fact.” 

These and many other remarks in a similar strain were 
made with tolerable frequency in these days, whenever a 
group of people who knew anything of Florence Arle and 
her love-affair were met together. The man to whom she 
was engaged had come down handicapped by the fact of 
being a stranger, who did not happen to hold Her 
Majesty’s Commission in either of the Services. And this 
fact naturally militated against him in an atmosphere that 
is impregnated with service feeling, as of necessity the 
atmosphere of all essentially military and naval towns 
must be. Nevertheless, he had been accepted freely after 
a brief period, both on account of his intimacy with Major 
Noel and by right of his own individuality, and that 
prepossessing power of the purse, which is apt to have a 
certain weight even in the highest-minded and most 
disinterested society. For a time, indeed, there had been 
no more popular man than Mr. Phillipps at the innume- 
rable dinners, tennis parties, and little dances, which are 
always taking place in the three towns. It was only when 
it got noised abroad that he had engaged himself to pretty 
Miss Arle, the horse-breeder’s niece, that the ladies of the 
locality resumed prudent cautious self-control of their 
judgment concerning him. And when, after it had got 
bruited abroad that the marriage was to take place “ very 
privately, but immediately,” Mr. Phillipps disappeared 
from the ken of that corner of the county, the “ folly of 
Florence Arle and her family ” became household words. 

For what outsiders said, thought, and sarcastically 
surmised, Florence cared very little, but about what those 
with whom she lived and to whom she was the light of 


96 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


their lives thought ” and did not say,” she was pain- 
fully sensitive, keenly, smartingly conscious. 

More than five weeks had slipped away since the night 
when Mr, Phillipps had slunk away without a spoken 
word of explanation, and though letters full of bright 
prognostications for the happy future which they would 
spend together came from him frequently, they failed to 
infuse a corresponding brightness into the spirit of the 
girl. She went on her daily way untiringly as she had 
always done, but the thought, ‘‘ When shall I see him 
again ? When shall I be sure nothing will part us ? ” was 
always present more or less forcibly in her mind. 

She was not of that order of womankind who, under any 
stress of circumstances, can absorb themselves in the 
question of the material and cut of their clothes. Having 
once chosen what she wanted and felt would suit her she 
could not detach her thoughts from every other element in 
her existence and fix them exclusively upon the effects that 
would be produced upon her personal appearance when 
she wore them. Her figure was so supple and slender 
that to fit her was no trouble, and consequently took very 
little time, and now that her trousseau was ready, tied up 
with pretty ribbons or effectively disposed on stands and 
the backs of chairs, as the case might be, she was defrauded 
of the legitimate pleasure she would have had in the con- 
templation of it by the haunting thought Shall I ever 
wear it? Will he ever come ? ” 

Happily she had the horses still to engross a large por- 
tion of her time, and some of her thoughts. The domestic 
interior was becoming very irksome to her, not that she 
loved her family less, but because she loved Mr. John 
Phillipps more, and was not able to put him in a parti- 
cularly satisfactory light in the family gallery just now. 
Every time her Uncle Joe, who always unlocked the bag, 
handed her a letter from her lover, she knew that a ques- 
tion as to ‘^when they were to see Mr. Phillipps himself 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


97 


again ? ’’ was burning on the old man’s lips. She was 
grateful to him for the small mercy of refraining from 
wording it, but her quick sympathetic soul understood the 
strain of mingled jealous feeling for her, and tenderness 
for her anxiety, which kept him silent. 

Unfortunately, too, for her temporary peace, her father’s 
memory had grown capricious. There were many days 
during which he never thought of Mr. Phillipps at all — 
days when that strongly painted figure was utterly oblite- 
rated from the canvas of the poor, failing, suffering artist’s 
mind. But there were other days when it stood out in 
abnormally strong relief. On these occasions the ques- 
tions he asked emphasised and accentuated all Florence’s 
hardly stifled fears and exasperating conjectures. The 
majority of these Mrs. Arle cleverly caught and parried 
before they struck Florence, but many of them struck 
straight into that part of our nervous organisation which 
we call our heart, and made her wince and ache over the 
knowledge of her inability to answer them. 

“ Business ! business ! Always business ! ” Mr. Arle 
would say, fretfully. “ If I were a little stronger I would 
go up to Town and see what sort of ‘ business ’ was keep- 
ing the man from the performance of an obvious duty.” 

“ My dear ! don’t speak of him as the man,” Florence’s 
mother would plead. 

I can hardly think of him as one, I can tell you that ; 
what right had he to come and destroy my daughter’s 
happiness in the life here unless he meant to secure it with 
himself? He is trading on my miserable helplessness ; 
the coward ! ” Then the consideration of his own mise- 
rable helplessness would become the paramount one in 
Mr. Arle’s mind, and for a few days Mr. Phillipps would 
be entirely forgotten. 

With her mother Florence had no trouble. The good- 
looking, clever, distinguished man had conquered the 
mother as completely as he had the daughter. There was 

4 


98 


TI/AT OTHER WOMAN, 


nothing suspicious to the guileless lady in the circum- 
stance of his being absent in an unexplained way when he 
ought to have been present as Florence’s bridegroom. 

The City was a wonderful place, she had always heard, 
and men in a large way of busines were often not the 
masters of their own time and actions.” So she would 
speak comfortingly to her daughter, and against her judg- 
ment and her instincts the daughter was sometimes 
comforted. 

That his letters were always written from his club, and 
that, therefore, he was still in London, was also a source 
of a certain faint feeling of satisfaction to Florence. It 
seemed to her inexperience that it must always be possible 
to put one’s hand on a business man in London. He had 
never told her what he was, but she understood that he 
was a sort of merchant prince, and she took if for granted 
that the name of John Phillipps, of such a John Phillipps 
as he was, was as widely known and easily recognised as 
that of the Lord Mayor. The fact of his trading under 
another name than his own had never entered her mind. 
Accordingly the house of Hornheam and Hauting'" was 
quite secure from all possibility of invasion from any 
member of the family of the latest victim of its senior 
partner. 

For a time Florence kept away even from Mrs. Broad- 
hurst, for she felt intuitively that Mrs. Broadhurst had 
changed in her feelings towards Mr. Phillipps. Then 
there came a day when she reflected that by keeping apart 
from her old friend she was betraying a cowardly fear of 
what that old friend might have to say on the subject that 
was, of course, omnipotent with the girl herself. ‘‘ How 
silly I was,” she thought, he’s not all 4}ie world to her, ^ 
very likely she has forgotten that it’s just five weeks now 
since John had to go off in such a hurry. Besides he has 
good reasons for not coming ; the more business he gets 
through now before we’re married, the freer he will be 
after, and the more I shall see of him.” 


TI/AT OTHER WOMAN. 


99 


This last view of the case had never been put before her 
by Mr. Phillipps, it may be mentioned, for he was con- 
scious that he would need to apply himself as closely to 
business after as before his marriage with Florence, if he 
wanted to keep Violet unsuspicious and quiescent. The 
suggestion was an airy emanation of Mrs. Arle's motherly 
brain, and Florence clung to and cherished it, and caused 
it to account for many things. 

Spring flowers were just pushing themselves above the 
earth in groups of yellow and purple crocuses, daflbdils, 
and waxen hyacinths, when Florence made her way over 
to the Broadhursts. Mouldering leaves had been rustling 
on the ground when John Phillipps went away ; and now 
all signs of decay were swept away, and the fresh young 
life of the earliest spring flowers filled the atmosphere with 
vitality. The sight of them pointed the length of time 
that had elapsed between then and now more keenly than 
anything else had done. The sight, the smell, the sensa- 
tion of them overcame her, and as she rode up the long 
drive between lines of them, the tears gathered hot and 
fast, and fell in big drops from her eyes. 

What a fool I am ! What a fool I am ! she thought, 
as she wiped them angrily away, feeling awkwardly con- 
scious that the servant would see traces of and wonder about 
them when he opened the door to her. It was too late to 
retreat, the bell was rung, her horse was led away, and she 
was taken straight into a room full of people before she 
could recover herself. 

‘‘ Flo ! is anything the matter, my child ? ” The words 
sprang to Mrs. Broadhurst’s lips, and were spoken eagerly 
and thoughtlessly before she remembered that they were 
as ill-adapted to the office of welcome as could well have 
been conceived. Her kind, womanly heart had told her 
often during the last few weeks that there was much the 
matter that would probably never be mended about the 
Phillipps and Arle^ affair. She was a careless and impul- 


loo 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


sive woman in many ways, but where the feelings and 
dignity of any woman or girl for whom she professed 
friendship were concerned her discretion and reticence 
were unassailable. Accordingly, though she had often 
found herself one of the numerous groups in which Florence 
Arle and her family were alternately pitied, blamed and 
sneered at, Mrs. Broadhurst always contrived to evade 
offering any information, or even an opinion, on the sub- 
ject. That she had not thought about it frequently and 
anxiously cannot be affirmed. 

So now, when Florence’s tear-stained, wistful face wrung ; 
the words Flo ! is anything the matter, my child ? ” from 
her old friend, the girl was far less annoyed and embar- 
rassed by hearing them than that old friend herself for '■ 
having uttered them. 

I don’t know why I should have asked that unless it is 1 
that I always think you ought to come to luncheon instead . • 
of only in the middle of the afternoon,” she continued, 
bustling about among the large dogs and little tables i 
which were scattered all over the floors. Sit down | 
there by the violet-table, and when I’ve given you some | 
tea and cakes, you shall tell me about your mother and | 
the gee’s.” 1 

Perhaps Miss Arle has something more interesting to | 
tell you about herself,” one of the company bleated softly. ; 
She was a puffy-faced woman with a faint, uncalled-for ; 
smile on her cheeks — a smile which failed either to | 
enlighten her eyes or soften her mouth. On the strength \ 
of this smile Mrs. Gunton, the vicar’s wife, passed for an 
amiable woman, and because of the long-sustained plain- 
tive notes which she produced when wording any damag- 
ing or disagreeable suggestions about any one of her 
numerous acquaintances she was popularly believed to 
be both pious and good-hearted. 

Therefore, now, when she made her little speech at Miss 
Arle, everyone in the room remembered that Miss Arle 




THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


loi 


had a lover who was showing himself a laggard. And 
each one felt — though she individually would have shrunk 
from applying a caustic finger to the wound — that Mrs. 
Gunton did no more than was humanly just in reminding 
Miss Arle that she had been a little over-ambitious, and 
that her soaring wings had been very properly clipped. 
The arrow pointed with ill-nature missed its aim. In 
genuine unconsciousness of its having been let fly at her, 
Florence was beginning to say that she had nothing inter- 
esting to tell of herself, when kindly feeling stepped in and 
did what motiveless spite had failed to achieve — broke her 
down, namely 

Don’t mind her little sneers, Flo ! ” Mrs. Broadhurst 
whispered, under cover of giving her some cake. ‘‘She’s 
only trying to find out.” Then Florence knew that her 
story was common gossip, and matter of common specula- 
tion, and that her unhappiness was not a secret sacred to 
herself. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

JACK INTERVENES. 

An intense and strictly justifiable pleasure may illumine 
the hearts of all those who are sufficiently interested in the 
people passing through these pages to dislike Phillipps- 
Twysden, and desire that he should be punished for his 
evil courses. Perhaps at this juncture he was being 
punished as severely as any but the most vindictive- 
minded couM wish. He was being made to suffer in both 
his best and worst affections, for the child whom he really 
loved was ill, and the woman he ought not to have 
worshipped was apart from him, sorrowing bitterly for his 
absence, an absence which he dare not explain to her, and 
which without his explanation was a painful mystery to her. 


102 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


Up to a certain point everything had gone well — that is, 
as he wished it to go with him. Old Mr. and Miss Twys- 
den had responded with pathetic confidence and warmth 
to his false apologies and excuses. They were so absolutely 
sincere in their acceptance of the mendacious explanations 
he offered, and of his various reasons and motives for not 
having introduced his wife and son to them before, that he 
became impregnated with their sentiments and felt a good 
deal of admiring respect for himself. The line of thought 
which he cleverly laid down for them to follow was one 
that must inevitably lead them to utterly erroneous calcu- 
lations concerning his wife’s parents, but that was a detail 
which did not trouble him at all. Violet was too proud 
to contradict him even if she found him out, and the old 
Twysdens were too delicately-minded to let the helpless 
daughter know how her husband had been almost driven 
out of society by those defalcations of her father’s and 
Bohemian goings on ” of her mother, to which he alluded 
more in sorrow than in anger. 

Their delicate-minded reticence deepened when they 
came to see more of Violet and to know her a little better. 

You have a perfect woman for your wife, my boy ! what- 
ever the sins of her father and mother may be, she is 
undefiled by them. We can love her as a daughter, and 
if she and you can make up your minds to spend at least 
half the year down here, you will be treated as our children, 
both while we live and when we die.” 

Phillipps-Twysden grasped the offer and the hand of 
the man who made it with genuine gratitude. With Violet 
established at quiet old Houndell for six months at a time, 
what almost perfect freedom would be his portion. His 

business,” in its many modern developments, was as 
much a mystery to old Mr. Twysden as it was to Violet, 
and on the broad back of that business he could easily 
lay the burden of his frequent and prolonged absences 
from wife and home. Accordingly, he felt the gratitude 


THAT OTHER WOMAJSF, 


103 


he expressed, and told Violet that if she betrayed a cor- 
respondingly keen sense of the advantages offered, not 
only their own, but little Jack’s fortune was made. 

I would just as soon be here as at Weybridge,” she 
asserted, and in his captious perversity, her easy acqui- 
escence in the arrangements he desired above all things to 
make annoyed him. 

‘‘Just as soon be here as at Weybridge ! What an 
ungracious way of accepting an invitation, and what a 
suspiciously cool way of relinquishing your home — or 
rather of showing how ready you are to relinquish it. I 
recognise your mother’s teaching in the scarcely veiled 
insult to myself.” 

“Your hatred of mamma makes you childishly unjust, 
John. She has always counselled me to cling to my home 
through everything — at any cost of mere feeling.” 

“ Then you have discussed the probability of your leav- 
ing it ? That’s a nice thing for a husband to hear from 
the lips of a wife upon whom he has lavished every luxury 
that money can procure ! Do you remember that you 
were a pauper when I married you ? and that you would 
have remained one if I had not been almost Quixotically 
generous.” 

“ No, I shouldn’t have remained one, for I should have 
married Sir Lionel Halford.” She was goaded into making 
the reply, but it was an injudicious one, as it roused his 
jealousy against a man about whom he had never conde- 
scended to feel it before. 

“ Perhaps you think that even now, if you cut yourself 
off from the home and the luxuries I supply you with. Sir 
Lionel will be ready to make them up to you? Your 
vanity misleads you if that is the case. He’s as much in 
love with that gaunt specimen of the aristocracy-^ your 
friend Lady Susan, as he knows how to be.” 

“ Don’t insult me in that way, John ! Whatever else 
you do, don’t say things to Jack’s mother that may make 


104 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


her turn on you and tell him that you are unworthy to be 
his father.” 

“ What the devil do you mean?” 

“ And don’t swear at me,” she said, imperiously. What 
your secrets are I do not enquire, what your motives are 
in pretending to me that you are in one place when I meet 
you in another I will not attempt to discover. But if you 
dare to hint that I am unfaithful to my marriage vow in 
thought, I will save my boy from the contaminating in- 
fluence which might teach him to despise his mother. Do 
you understand me ? or shall I speak more plainly ? ” 

‘‘ You needn’t.” He shrugged his shoulders and spoke 
with an air of weary contemptuous indifference, but all the 
time he was thinking she had found out something, and he 
was fearing her. “ I understand you very well, I think, 
Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, you want to establish a grievance 
in order that you may justify any outree action you may 
choose to take by-and-bye, and you can find none save 
this, that I spend a portion of my life away from you — 
working in heavy business chains for that money which 
you take as your right and spend so freely.” 

How I hate the word money ! money ! money ! ” 

You’d hate the want of it more, let me tell you. It 
gets you everything you want — ” 

“ No, John, it does not,” she interrupted with a sob, 
that would have wrung his heart to hear had not pride and 
prejudice and passion for another woman cased that heart 
in iron against his wife. ‘‘ It does not give me all I want, 
I want your love, the love that was so sweet and strong when 
you wanted 7ne that I thought it must last out my life, and 
I want your confidence. I want, when you are away from 
me, to be able to tell our child when he says his prayers, 
to ask God to prosper you in all your doings.” 

Don’t drag the child into the argument.” 

“ But he must be in it, he is the great link between us, 
John ; if he were left out what would there be left to us of 


rjIAT OTHER WO MAH 


105 

the lives that we vowed to live together in love and con- 
fidence till death should part us. If I have been in fault 
at all, if the indifference I have sometimes feigned has 
seemed real to you, forgive me, and believe the truth now, 
the truth that I have always loved you and longed for 
your love, and always shall do so. If you will only treat 
me as a trusted wife should be treated, you shall never 
hear me repine about the estrangement from my dear 
father and mother, though Heaven knows I am conscious 
enough that in being a dutiful wife I shall be an undutiful 
child.” 

‘‘That will do,” he interrupted coldly ; “you contrive 
to make me feel the sharp edge of your tongue, even while 
it’s uttering words of pretended duty and resignation. It’s 
a painful thing for a husband to say, but I may as well 
say it, since there is a good deal that is painful in the 
relations between us — and that is, that your indifference, 
whether real or feigned, has killed the love I had for you 
before you displayed it. You asked for my confidence. 
Now I have given it to you, and I hope you are satisfied.” 

He spoke more cruelly than he felt, for he wanted at 
once and for ever to put an end to anything like affection- 
ate pleading on her part, and at the same time he wanted 
to put her in the wrong. To do this was difficult, but he 
felt that he had succeeded pretty well when she said : 

“Very well! I have said the last words you shall be 
troubled with from me on the subject. Understand, though, 
that I am perfectly ready to stay here as long as you please, 
or go back to Weybridge when it suits you to send me 
there.” 

“ Touchingly obedient, on my word ! ” he sneered ; “you 
manage to play the martyr very comfortably. Hoiindell 
is a place where even a more fastidious woman than your- 
self might contrive to exist for a time, and your home at 
Weybridge is one that even an art-decorator would find it 
difficult to improve. To be resigned to live in either of 
them proves you to be an angel of forbearance I ” 


io6 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


She looked him straight in the face till he had finished 
speaking. Then, without a word, she rose and went out 
of the room. Five minutes afterwards he saw her playing 
battledore and shuttlecock on the lawn with Jack. 

She’s taken the idea of a virtual separation more 
easily than I expected,” he said to himself. After this 
she’ll never worry me with questions as to where my busi- 
ness takes me. I hope she won’t complain to the old 
people here — that might be awkward.” 

His spirits rose, and he became quite courteous and 
agreeable even to his wife for the remainder of that day. 
He meant to receive a telegram calling him away on 
urgent business the next morning, and so just for the few 
intervening hours he thought it would be as well to make 
as good an impression as possible upon his little boy and 
the old Twysdens. The latter were both delighted with 
him. To them he seemed the very model of what a high- 
minded, hard-working, estimable, honorable English 
gentleman and British merchant should be. It was sad 
for him, they felt, that his wife’s father and mother should 
be of that shady Bohemian order of which they had often 
heard, but of which they knew nothing personally. Still 
he bore this affliction manfully — never lets her feel that 
he smarts under it,” the excellent obtuse old brother and 
sister assured one another. They even went so far in < 
their thorough appreciation of him as to almost bless j 
those false-hearted parents of his who had jilted them 
both, for having married and produced such a son. And 
by way of recompensing him for his goodness and unsel- 
fishness in accepting their offer of six months’ hospitality 
for himself and his wife and child, they proposed to give 
a great state dinner party to some of the greatest of the 
great people in the neighborhood, and introduce him , 
formally as their adopted son and heir. 

But even while they were discussing this plan with him, I 
and he was affecting to fall in and be interested in it, he I 


T/ZAT OTHER WOMAN. 


107 


was arranging in his own mind his plan of campaign with 
Florence for the next three or four months, and thinking 
that to-morrow he would see her — his innocent darling ! " 
again. 

He was alone with Mr. and Miss Twysden at this 
moment. Violet had gone up after dinner to see Jack 
after his bath, according to her invariable custom, and at 
last someone remarked that she was away longer than 
usual.” Presently after this a note was brought from her 
to Miss Twysden. 

Please send for a doctor at once ; my boy is very ill. 
— Violet.” 

There was confusion and excitement in the house for 
hours after this, and during it Phillipps-Twysden found 
himself alone with his wife by the bedside of their child. 
The doctor had come, and pronounced the sudden illness 
to be ‘^whooping-cough, with complications.” The little 
fellow was feverish, and his labored painful breathing 
wrung his mother’s heart as she stood by watching each 
change in the little pain-swollen face. Suddenly her hus- 
band spoke ; 

“ Will he die, Wiolet ? Am I to lose my boy ? ” 

“ God forbid — unless he lets me die too ! ” she moaned 
as she sank on her knees and prayed that the light of her 
life might not be taken from her. She made no attempt 
to draw him down to pray with her, and he noticed the 
omission and was nettled by it, “for the boy is mine as 
well as hers ! ” he reminded himself jealously, and some- 
thing pricked his heart till the pain made his eyelids wet. 

All through that night — and for many a weary day and 
night after it — little Jack tossed and moaned and wasted 
away under the combined influences of fever, whooping- 
cough, and inflammation of the lungs. Now and then 
Hope lit her bright beacon fire in Violet’s heart. But, as 
a rule, what she had to fight against and conceal from the 
suffering child was a dull despair that seemed to paralyse 


io8 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


her ! Each minute her boy grew dearer to her, and each 
minute seemed to lessen the chances of her keeping him 
with her. 

“ It is more than I can bear, it is more than I can bear ! 
she would wail under her breath, when Jack was sleeping 
a sleep that looked so like death already, that for a 
moment of terror she thought the end had come. Then, 
perhaps, he would wake a little refreshed, and looking her 
living child again, and all her other troubles melted away 
and were forgotten in her gratitude to God for having 
spared her this mightiest one of all. 

While little Jack was hanging in the balance, his father 
was chained to Houndell. The unconscious girl who had 
ousted his wife from his heart had not weakened his child’s 
hold upon that — “ that deceitful and desperately wicked ” 
— organ. There were many days, indeed, when it became 
positively irksome to him to write those letters to Flor- 
ence which were necessary to keep her faith in him alive. 
These letters gave him a good deal of trouble in the post- 
ing as well as in the composing, for they had to be posted 
in London, and this involved his trusting someone to a 
certain extent. This someone he had selected for the 
post of partially-trusted one was a deserving but im- 
pecunious widow lady, whose son was a junior clerk in 
the house of Hornbeam and Hauting, and who only knew 
Mr. Phillipps-Twysden as Hornbeam, the great head of 
the house. He paid her liberally for posting his letters 
to Florence Arle, and holding her tongue about it to all 
men — even to her son. She was an unsuspicious woman, 
and thought no evil of dignitaries, and she was a prudent 
woman who, for her own son’s sake, desired to make a 
little money and stand well with the head of the house. 
Therefore she posted the letters unfailingly, and observed 
a golden silence about them. Nevertheless, she hoped 
that when the little romance ended in matrimony, and 
Miss Arle had become the great man’s wife, she would re- 


That other woman. 


io9 

member that humble instrument in their courtship — the 
letter-poster, Mrs. Watts. 

One morning Jack took the turn that they had been 
waiting for in trembling anguish and heart sickening sus- 
pense for many weeks, and he took it in the right direction. 
His mother’s prayers had been heard, and he was better ! 

At once the heavy cloud was lifted from the house. 
The old master and mistress, who had gone about with 
dim tearful eyes and hushed steps lately, shook each 
other’s hands, and prophesied to each other concerning 
all the treats and changes and presents they would give 
to the little chap who had so nearly left them. Violet 
forgot all her fatigue and soul weariness, and was once 
more the bright happy young mother whom Jack remem- 
bered before his illness. 

And Phillipps-Twysden went up to town, for the first 
time since he came down to Houndell, on business. 

After spending two or three hours at his office he went 
to his club, and heard that a gentleman had been there for 
the last three or four days enquiring for Mr. Phillipps, and 
had left his card. The card was handed to him and he 
was reading the name printed in portly letters upon it as 
Mr. Joseph Cadly, when he heard himself addressed as 
Mr. Phillipps ; and looking round he found himself con- 
fronted by Florence’s Uncle Joe. 


CHAPTER XV. 

UNCLE JOE INTERVENES. 

The impulse to knock Mr. Cadly down was so strongly 
upon Phillipps-Twysden that he deserved some credit for 
the self-control which enabled him instead to hold out his 
hand and say, heartily : 

I’m delighted to see you, when did you come up ? 
Come along and have some luncheon.’* 


no 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


Fm not delighted to see you, Mr. Phillipps/’ Uncle 
Joe spoke in subdued tones that seemed of revolting 
coarseness to Phillipps-Twysden, and stuck his hand into 
the pocket of his coat instead of placing it with friendly 
and confiding warmth into the one extended to him. I 
am not delighted to see you, Mr. Phillipps, and I'll not 
break bread with you till you’ve made it clear to me that 
you’re running straight.” 

“ Come along, we’ll go somewhere else where I can ex- 
plain things ; not here, there’s no privacy in this con- 
founded place.” 

I don’t want privacy, I want an open, manly under- 
standing with you,” Uncle Joe rejoined in jerks, for he 
was being hustled along by his companion, to whom any- 
thing approaching to a scene at his Club would have been an 
intolerable nuisance, to say nothing of the scene probably 
exploding the secret of his real name and surroundings. 

You shall have everything you want in five minutes if 
you’ll only come along, and not make a row.” Then he 
hailed a hansom, hoisted the unwilling old man into it, 
and had himself and his captive ‘^accuser ” or ‘‘pursuer,” 
or whatever else Uncle Joe might develop into, driven to 
one of Spiers and Pond’s restaurants, the one where he 
was least likely to be seen of all men while in bondage to 
the “ old country bumpkin,” as he mentally designated 
Uncle Joe. Here, as soon as they were seated and 
luncheon served to them, Mr. Phillipps-Twysden recover- 
ed his equanimity and proceeded with much calm ingenuity 
to throw dust into Uncle Joe’s honest eyes. 

“ I had just been reading a letter from Flo, in which 
she gives me all the home news ; she didn’t tell me, 
though, that I was to have the pleasure of seeing you up 
here, so I was rather startled when you spoke to me.” 

“ You looked startled, Mr. Phillipps,” Uncle Joe said 
slowly. “ You looked as I’ve seen a man look when 
there’s a big, ugly fence in front of him that he knows he 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


Ill 


can’t avoid, and he’s not sure of either his horse or him- 
self. That’s how you looked, Mr. Phillipps, and I was 
sorry to see it.” 

“ In other words, you mean that I looked frightened, my 
good friend ? ” There was anything but a sweet smile on his 
face as he spoke — a tiger might regard the one who was 
looking after the interests of a lamb which the tiger wanted 
with a similar expression. Well ! ” he went on lightly, 
as the old man shook his head and declined the sherry 
offered to him, you’ll find there’s not much cowardice 
about me, though I did allow myself to be staggered for a 
moment at your unexpected appearance. However, that’s 
over, and I’m delighted to see you. Have you any plans 
for to-night ? If not, we might go to the theatre together, 
and to-morrow, if you’ve done your business, we could go 
down together.” 

I have plans for this evening, and for all the time I’m 
in London, Mr. Phillipps, and they are to find out all I 
can about you. I tell you this honestly and openly, sir. 

owe it to my sister and my sister’s child to do for them 
what the poor afflicted husband and father can’t do. My 
‘ business ’ will be over at once, sir, if you tell me where 
you live, and how you live, and why you’re known at your 
Club by one name and to us by another. When I asked 
for Mr. Phillipps they didn’t know you — those Club ser- 
vants ; but when I described you they said at once ’twas 
Mr. Phillipps-Twysden that I meant ! You’ll understand 
that I want to know the right name of the man who is 
going to marry my niece.” 

Do you suppose my occupation to be that of a body- 
snatcher or a burglar that you want to pry into my busi- 
ness, Mr. Cadly? I can assure you that I have no 
intention of gratifying any impertinent intrusive curiosity 
that you may choose to feel and show about my affairs. 
It is my whim to keep the business and prosaic side of my 
life quite apart from the private and domestic one. I am 


II2 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


not a man much given to sentiment, but I have this much 
of it in me, I want to surround Florence with an atmos- 
phere of perfect peace and incalculable simplicity and 
beauty. Such a life can never be lived if sordid cares and 
anxious business thoughts are introduced into it. Florence 
understands this thoroughly, and will not thank you for 
trying to force me to break a compact that she and I 
made for our mutual happiness — entirely to her satisfac- 
tion.’’ 

She’s an innocent girl, and you’ve persuaded her, Mr. 
Phillipps ; it’s not to my satisfaction that we should be as 
much in the dark about you as if you had dropped from 
the stars.” 

Then as to the name of Twysden,’’ Mr. Phillipps went 
on as airily as if he were not one whit concerned about 
the name, and had forgotten that boy of his who bore 
it, ^‘as to the name of ‘Twysden,’ they tack it on to 
Phillipps sometimes because some of my mother’s people 
were called ‘ Twysden,’ and they think I am proud of it.” 

“ You may well be ; it’s a rare good name in Somerset- 
shire,” Uncle Joe put in thoughtfully. “ I know the 
family — known ’em years ago ; had dealings with the 
Twysdens, to be sure I had ! Why, I got the finest brood 
mare that ever stepped into my yard from Squire Twysden, 
of Houndell ! ” 

“ The devil you did ! I mean theyr’e not the same 
family from which my mother came. The Twysdens I 
hail from remotely have a fastness somewhere in the 
West of Ireland. If you’d like to look them up.” 

He was speaking gaily, it seemed to him such an 
excellent joke that he should send this intrusive old 
person off on a wild goose chase to the West of Ireland 
in search of some imaginary Twysdens who had never 
existed there, when his gaiety received a shock. Sir 
Lionel Halford was passing, and catching sight of little 
Jack’s father, he stopped in real kindheartedness and 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


”3 


genuine pleasure, to express his feelings about the little 
boy’s recovery. 

Glad to see you, Twysden, and awfully glad of the 
news Lady Susan has wired to me that the boy’s better. I 
shall run down to the Duke’s for a day or two soon, and 
call at Hound ” 

They’ll be glad to see you, every one of them. Lady 
Susan is the best creature in the world. She doesn’t like 
me. Don’t tell her I said so,” Phillipps-Twysden rattled 
out, feeling guiltily that Uncle Joe’s eyes were upon him, 
sternly observant of his impatience and embarrassment. 
‘‘ By the way, I want a word with you about ” he mut- 

tered something which Mr. Cadly could not hear, and 
jumping up caught Sir Lionel by the arm and led him 
aside, apparently talking business earnestly. 

‘‘ I couldn’t introduce you,” he explained presently, 
coming back to the rather bewildered old yeoman, that 
fellow is possessed of more money than brains, and I’m 
trying to save the former for him. He wants to take a 
theatre ” 

He should engage you to act in it — you play a double 
part well,” the old man interrupted, with sudden fury ; 
“ in all London there must be someone to tell me the 
truth about you — the truth ! which I shall never get from 
yourself.” 

He had picked his hat up with a shaking hand and was 
going away out of the place that was crowded with his 
fellow creatures, not one of whom he felt he could trust ; 
not one of whom could or would give him any information 
upon which he could rely about this man who wanted to 
marry his niece. Phillipps-Twysden was following him, 
expostulating glibly, for it would be unpleasant if Uncle 
Joe should be able to offer such a fair show of condemnation 
of his, Phillipps’, conduct that Florence should be tempted 
to look at it. 

What misconception are you nourishing now, Mr. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


114 

Cadly ? ’’ he was asking with tolerance and a pretence of 
subdued amusement ; “ it’s not possible that you can be 
annoyed because I left you for a moment to speak to a 
man you don’t know ? ” 

I’m not annoyed.” Uncle Joe spoke sadly but softly. 
The sadness of the tones didn’t impress Phillipps-Twysden 
at all, but he was pleased that the old man was considerate 
enough to suppress them, for they were in Fleet Street 
now, where at any moment he might run across a city ac- 
quaintance, “ I’m not annoyed, Mr. Twysden, but I’m 
sorry to find the man who wants to marry my Flo is 
ashamed or afraid to let a man who knows him speak 
before me. You’re not riding fair, sir.” 

A fine, handsome, matronly woman, stepping firmly 
along, as one who has matter in hand, the righteousness 
of which excuses her presence alone in any place, was 
meeting them at this moment. She stepped abruptly, her 
color rose and something like tears started to her eyes as 
she half held out her hand to PhilHpps-Twysden, 
saying : 

John, I must tell you how rejoiced I am; I am his 
grandmother, you know ! Violet has telegraphed to me 
that our boy is better. ” He raised his hat stiffly, let her 
proffered hand remain extended unnoticed, and murmur- 
ing that he was delighted to hear the cause of her 
gratification,” passed on with an outward appearance of 
cold unconcern and an inner consciousness of profound 
humiliation, dread and misery. Was he not being punish- 
ed already? Was he not taking out a portion of his hell 
upon earth ? in being compelled through his own crooked 
policy to disown the one being whom he loved truly, and, 
to a certain extent, purely ! his son. 

By all the agony I’ve gone through, while the little lad 
was hanging between life and death, God forgive me for 
seeming to be careless of him now,” he pleaded inwardly 
in what he intended to be a prayerful spirit. Theii he 


THAT OTHER WOMAH 


115 

set himself again to the unpalatable task of squaring 
Uncle Joe,” who was trudging along in indignant silence 
and brain-aching bewilderment. 

‘‘ That lady has been in great anxiety about her little 
grandchild. I know its parents and ” 

I should suppose you did know ‘ its parents ’ pretty 
well, Mr. Phillipps, or Twysden, or whatever name you 
wish to be called by,” Uncle Joe replied drily; both 
the young fool, with more money than brains, who wants 
to take a theatre, and the grandmother seemed to think 
you had as strong an interest as any of them in the boy ! 
Tell me what that interest is, and let me feel that I’m 
dealing with a man.” 

The pure country air and unsophisticated country 
surroundings breed a good deal of ungrounded suspicion, 

I observe.” Mr. Phillipps-Twysden was forgetting Florence 
for a moment, and permitting himself the luxury of sneer- 
ing at her powerful old relative. In another moment, the 
vision of Florence, in all her fresh unstained youth and 
prettiness, in all her honest heart-whole belief in and love 
for him, flashed itself before him, invigorating his memory, 
steadying his nerves, and impelling him to say words that 
the best disposed recording angel would hesitate to 
attempt to blot out. 

The interest I feel in the boy can never clash with 
those nearer and dearer interests of my own to which I 
look forward with confidence. I had a brother, the 
brother sinned and suffered ! and — died ! His child is 
innocent, and I am fond of him — fond of the boy, you 
understand,” he went on, stammering. ‘‘ But he won’t 
come into Florence’s life. I shall provide for him, but I 
don’t want to bring his — his father’s unfortunate story 
under Florence’s notice.” Then by a great eflort he 
added — 

‘‘ His father was a scoundrel ! Florence must never hear 
of him. Ah ! Mr. Cadly, there are skeletons in every 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


1 16 

house ! Mine is an ugly one, but you have forced me to 
show it to you, are you satisfied? You have beaten me, 
you have discovered my secret ! ” 

It does you credit.’’ Mr. Cadly did not say these 
words effusively at all, but with an ironically admiring air 
that left his hearer a little in doubt as to what ” did him 
credit. 

It does you credit to think you should have such fine 
feelings for a scoundrel brother, and what an uncle you 
must have proved yourself for those two people to take it 
for granted that you’d be the one most interested in the 
boy. Your brother’s widow (if he’s left one) must almost 
worship you. Now I should like to see that lady.” 

“ My brother’s widow is a person with whom I can 
never allow Flo to hold any communication.” 

A loose character, eh ? if she’s that it seems to me 
that your duty to your dead brother, though he may have 
been a scoundrel, bids you remove the boy from her care. 
Is there anything about the boy’s mother that unfits her 
to know my niece ? ” 

“ You ask too much, Mr. Cadly, you presume too much 
upon your age and my affection for your niece. I have 
told you all you will ever learn from me of a most unfor- 
tunate piece of family history. If you pry about and seek 
to get further information in a mean and underhand way I 
shall feel it my duty to remove Florence from your in- 
fluence altogether, and forbid her to hold any intercourse 
with you.” 

She wouldn’t obey you,” the old man almost shouted 
in his wrath. My little girl has known and loved me 
too long to turn round and sting me at your command ; 
she wouldn’t obey you if you told her to give me up — she 
loves me too well.” 

Pooh ! she loves me better. Do you suppose that 
she’s the one woman in the world who will cling to a pre- 
judiced old relation to the ruin of her whole happiness 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 117 

ar^ the happiness of the man she loves ? My good sir, 
yo:'. know little indeed of the human heart and of feminine 
nature if you delude yourself with such a groundless belief. 
Florence will be sorry to be separated from you, I own 
that frankly, but she will submit to the separation if I tell 
her that I wish it. I tell you fairly that if you cross swords 
with me, Florence will put her hand on the hilt of mine to 
help me ! yes, even though she knows it will go through 
your heart.” 

He spoke with savage sincerity. Uncle Joe was seeing 
a bit of the real man at last ! They had come up through 
the Strand into Waterloo Place by this time. An Oxford 
Street omnibus was passing, on the top of which Major 
Noel was seated. He did not see either of the two men 
who knew him, but the quick eyes of the old Devonshire 
colt breeder, who never forgot a point either in horse or 
man, recognized him. 

“ You'll do your worst with her — if ever you get her. We 
may as well part now. I'll take that 'bus,'' Uncle Joe said 
briefly. In another moment he had clambered to the top, 
and taken his seat by Major Noel, while Phillipps-Twys- 
den walked on briskly, burning with impatience and an- 
noyance alone. 

I'll take the first train I can catch and forestall that 
meddling old miscreant,” he decided. So Violet received 
a telegram that day telling her that business had taken 
him abroad, and by five o'clock he was in a train that was 
bound for the west country. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

FLORENCE ARLE's FIRST DOUBTS. 

It was all peace and pure sunshine in the Arle household 
the day of Mr. Phillipps' return. He came down deter- 
mined to take captive the faith and affections of the family 


Ii8 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


before Uncle Joe came back, and brought his pernicious 
policy of prudence and suspicion to bear upon the hitherto 
prosperous lover. 

The coming of this lover was so unexpected that Flor- 
ence was not there to receive him ; but, though he showed 
very proper signs of disappointment at this, he made the 
old people feel that the sight of them was the next best 
pleasure his eyes could have had to the sight of Florence. 
He told them quite a long story of the hard brain work 
and hard travelling work he had been obliged to get 
through during his absence, in order that he might have 
more to devote to his young wife for a while after their 
marriage. And at the last, just when I had cleared off 
every pressing score, and was on the point of coming back 
to you all, who should I meet but Uncle Joe, full of bitter 
wrath against me because I hadn’t put him in possession 
of a host of business matters that merely concern the house 
of which I am a partner. I wanted him to come down 
with me, but he cast my invitation aside with ever-so-many 
threats, and went off avowing that he’d find out something 
bad about me.” 

“ Dear ! dear ! It’s not like Joe to interfere and make 
mischief,” Mrs. Arle sighed ; but he’s always been foolish 
about Flo, thinking no one good enough for her ! ” 

I admit that at once ; but I venture to think Fm the 
most deserving fellow who has ever wanted her. I must 
be, you see, or she wouldn’t have chosen me,” he went on, 
pleasantly taking Mrs. Arle’s acquiescence for granted in 
a way that flattered her into feeling. He knows — I 
thoroughly understand him ! ” 

London life always upsets Joe a little,” Mr. Cadly’s 
sister explained. “ It’s the whizz and the smoke, you 
know, and so many streets all looking very much alike to 
people who do not know them as we do, Mr. Phillipps.” 

Exactly, exactly ; that no doubt accounts for a little 
wildness in his eye and manner. In fact, he said such 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


I19 

extraordinary things to me that if it hadn’t been too early 
in the day I should have thought the dear old chap had 
been drinking.” 

That he never does, never, Mr. Phillipps ! I have 
never known my brother Joe drink a drop in his life.” 

Extraordinary case — and how thirsty he must be by 
this time ; I think you might pay me the compliment of 
taking me into the family to the extent of calling me John. 
By the way, dear old Uncle Joe was supremely funny 
about a sort of nick-name I have among a certain set in 
town, and which he chanced to get hold of. He seemed 
to think that I was dealing treacherously with Flo in not 
having told her of it.” 

He laughed so heartily at this that Mrs. Arle, though 
she did not exactly see the joke, laughed too, and said : 

Poor old Joe ! ” in accents of affectionate contempt. 
Presently she thought she would like to hear what her 
son-in-law’s nick-name was. But by the time she had 
asked that he had swung himself into another topic, and 
did not think it necessary to answer. But Mrs. Arle for- 
gave the discourtesy, or rather did not notice it, for 
“ John,” as she hastened to call him mentally, was 
eloquently pleading for an early wedding-day to be 
fixed. 

I shall get a special license, so there will be no tedious 
delay if Flo is only ready. The precautions with which a 
marriage by banns are encompassed always seem to me 
idiotic ; don’t they strike you in the same way ? ” 

Well, ril hardly say that^"' Mrs. Arle said guardedly. 

I like the idea of the word being asked if it knows just 
cause or impediment why these two should not be joined 
together in ^ Holy Matrimony ’ three Sundays running.” 

My dear lady ! the world would always find a 
thousand just causes and impediments if it pleased. 
Moreover, it isn’t the world at all that’s consulted on the 
subject, it’s a miserable handful of people in a village 


120 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


church. It would be so in our case, and the only im- 
pediment they’d think of to my union with Flo would be 
couched in these words, ‘ we don’t know un,’ applied to 
me.” 

Mrs. Arle missed the joke, if he designed to make one, 
and suggested yet another slight drawback to the plan he 
proposed. 

A special license is so expensive.” 

Dear Mrs. Arle, where Florence is concerned I shall 
never be economical. Your daughter will be the great 
extravagance of my life, and I shall never grudge paying 
anything that she may cost me — never grudge it, and 
7iever regret it ! ” 

He was speaking strangely, Mrs. Arle thought — speak- 
ing more seriously and earnestly than the subject seemed 
to warrant. The fact is he was speaking partly to himself 
— following out a train of thought of which she knew 
nothing. If she had been suspicious of him, or critically 
disposed, she might have been rendered uneasy by the dis- 
play of feverish haste which he was making to be married 
to her daughter. But she was a woman who had tasted 
the dregs of the cup of poverty herself, and recalling the 
flavor of those dregs as she listened to him, she felt more 
inclined to urge him on to the fulfilment of his generous 
intentions towards Florence than to carpingly enquire as 
to the reason why he was in such a hurry. 

^‘You know your own affairs best, I am sure of that, 
John ! ” she said with a little timid, adoring, admiring 
emphasis on his name that was eloquent in its satisfied 
trustfulness. “ If you like to have a wedding without any 
of our friends being present, Florence will like it, too, I’m 
sure, and I shall raise no objection. Though, of course, 
as a mother I feel that I should like my daughter to be 
seen that day — she’ll be such a pretty bride ; all in white, 
dear child ; for I’m sure you won’t encourage the foolish 
notion of being married in her habit and riding straight 
from the church ? ” 


THAT OTHER tVOMAH. 


t2t 

Jove ! but that plan has its advantages ! Why 
not, Mrs. Arle ? Think of how much trouble you would 
be saved ! and remember that she’ll be as pretty in her 
riding habit as in the conventional white satin. Say yes, 
and I’ll run up to Exeter and get a license to-morrow ! ” 

If my brother Joe were at home I’d say yes, directly,” 
Mrs. Arle assented nervously, but in his absence — this is 
his house, you know, and there would be so much talk 
about it in the neighborhood ! Why, no show wedding 
that could be arranged would make half as much gossip, 
Mr. Phillipps — John, I mean. It would be the nine-days’ 
wonder, and ill-natured people would go so far as to say it 
was shoppy. Old Joe Cadly’s niece mustn’t do anything 
out of the way. When she’s your wife it will be dif- 
ferent.” 

“ Very different — widely different,” he interrupted, 
marvelling at himself for that development of the power of 
self-control which enabled him to go through these 
obnoxious preliminaries. He was a man of might in the 
City, in his own beautiful home he was an autocrat, and 
in the social circle that knew him best, that circle into 
which he stepped with a firm step, and in which he had 
taken his place with stern self-assertion since his marriage 
with Violet, he was a respected, feared man. Yet being 
these things, and knowing that he was these things, he 
found himself here in a remote west-country hamlet waiting 
on a feeble old woman’s words of weak wisdom with 
patience, and trembling at the possible dictum of an inex- 
perienced country girl. It was a ridiculous, incongruous 
position for such a man as he knew himself to be to be 
placed in. But he had placed himself in it with cunning 
consideration, and now he would abide the consequences. 

It was only when he thought of little Jack, his loving 
little son, who was only just creeping back from the gates 
of death, that his vicious strength gave way a little, and 
his selfish, immoral, passionate purpose grew infirm. 


122 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


But it was an infirmity that did not prove fatal to the 
purpose. Perhaps it might have done so if Jack had 
relapsed into dangerous illness at this juncture, but no 
news of this kind reaching him, he strove to think as little 
of the household at Houndell as possible. 

It was not difficult to banish unpleasant memories, pre- 
sently, when hearing the horses’ feet clattering up the yard, 
he went out and met Florence. At the first glance he saw 
that the girl had lost that soft fresh beautiful bloom of 
youth which had struck him with such attractive force 
when first he met her. It was not exactly that she had 
grown either paler or thinner, but she had lost something 
in the tone of her complexion and in the lines of her face 
and form. This “something” is not to be defined, it 
belongs exclusively to heart-free, happy, unanxious youth 
and from whatever cause it vanishes, it never returns again. 
Some shadow of the chagrin — it can hardly be called sorrow 
— which he felt that she should have changed in the slight- 
est degree must have shown itself in his face as he met 
her, for her serious contemplative look changed to one of 
absolute nervousness. 

“ Is anything the matter, John? ” she asked. “Oh, I’m 
so glad you are back, so glad ! so glad ! Are you not glad 
too?” 

She had sprung from her horse, and now they stood 
inside the passage door, out of sight of the grooms, who 
would have been irreverently amused at the touch of human 
nature had they witnessed it. For Florence’s arms were 
round his neck, and he was raining kisses on the wistful 
face that was lifted up to meet them. 

“ You have missed me, my darling? ” 

“ Missed you ! That I should have done under any 
circumstances, but I’ve done more than miss you, I have 
been miserable, because when people insinuated things and 
looked things that they wouldn’t have dared to say, I’ve 
had to be silent, I couldn’t tell them where you were, or 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 123 

what you were doing, or even when you were coming back. 
And so IVe been miserable.” 

Because other people have doubted me ? ” 

She clung closer to him, and made no answer. But he 
felt that the moment for beginning her education had come. 
Putting his hand under her chin he raised her face and 
forced her to meet his eyes. 

Were you ‘ miserable ^ because other people doubted 
me?” 

A little.” 

You were foolish, my dear girl, foolish and — forgive 
me ! — not quite loyal. You must learn to be more reliant 
on your own judgment of me, for I can’t suppose for a 
moment that you have dishonored me by doubting the 
integrity of my conduct in staying away from you at the 
command of duty ! ” 

If to be anxious and miserable, and full of wild con- 
jectures about what kept you away was ^ dishonoring to 
you,’ I am guilty,” she said quickly, and — he was sorry to 
see — fearlessly. 

I thought you were superior to the folly of being at 
the mercy of other people’s doubts,” he said, with a pre- 
tence of being relieved. After all, it was only your own 
loving fears for me which made you so miserable, and, 
egotist that I am, where you are concerned, I can’t feel 
anything but flattered by your fears and little idle mise- 
ries.” 

He would not say anything about her “ doubts.” He 
judged it better to leave them uncanvassed. 

And in his presence they quickly took their departure 
from Florence’s mind, and dispersed. To have him there ! 
— safely in her own home, behaving like a son already to 
her father and mother, and earnestly urging them all to 
consent to an immediate quiet marriage was quite enough 
for her. 

Mrs. Gunton will find that she has wasted her shot ! 


124 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


How I should like to hear her purr upon John when she 
hears the wedding-d^y is fixed. She’ll offer to decorate 
the church, and tell people that she ‘ liked Mr. Phillipps, 
from the first.’ She always does that when a girl she 
knows marries a man who^s well-off, and may perhaps 
invite Mrs. Gunton to stay with them.” 

These thoughts, or some that were near akin to them, 
flashed through Florence’s mind as she glanced over a 
note from Mrs. Gunton a little later in the day. 

‘‘The Vicarage, Thursday, April loth. 

“ My dear Florence, — Do come to tennis to-morrow at 
three. Mrs. Broadhurst says she will call for you. Some- 
one who very much wants to meet you will be here. It is 
no use my saying I shall be happy to see Mr. Phillipps, as 
I hear his return is still uncertain. 

“ Yours affectionately, 

“ LettIe Gunton.” 

“ The sting of this little epistolary reptile is in its tail, I 
observe,” Mr. Phillipps remarked when Florence handed 
him the note. “ Never mind, Flo, if you’ll take me I’ll go 
and make myself agreeable to the fellow, who very much 
wants to meet you, for, of course, it’s a fellow, and equally 
of course, it’s a back-number whom you’ve suppressed.” 

“ But I haven’t any back-numbers,” Florence said delight- 
edly, for the idea of his going with her and so by his grand 
bodily presence refuting all those vague chimerical asper- 
sions which had been thought and spoken about him, 
charmed her into light-heartedness. “ We will go there 
together, and the person who wants to meet me shall 
have the unexpected pleasure of meeting you too, John.” 

“ I do think Mrs. Gunton ought to be asked to the 
wedding if no one else is,” Mrs. Arle put in parentheti- 
cally. “ She’s always been so nice and friendly, taking 
such an interest in Florence from a child. Over and over 
again she has told me how anxious she had been that 


TBAT OTHER WOMAN. 


125 


Florence shouldn’t break her back with those colts, or be 
spoken about. I think we must make an exception in her 
favor, and ask her to the wedding.” 

I don’t want anyone but Mrs. Broadhurst,” Florence 
said stonily, untouched by those instances of Mrs. Gun- 
ton’s friendly feelings which had been brought into evidence. 

And I don’t want anyone but you,” Mr. Phillipps 
whispered, and for once he spoke the truth. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

MRS. GUNTON SURMOUNTS A DIFFICULTY. 

Mrs. Gunton had several difficulties to combat when she 
promised to give a tennis party. In the first place she 
lived in an inaccessible place, or at leasU in a place that 
was pronounced to be ‘‘ inaccessible ” by the people whom 
she most desired to entertain. All the best people whom 
she knew — that is all the best-off and most entertaining 
and most thoroughly established ” people — lived just far 
enough away for them to be able to plead distance ” as 
a deterrent when she invited them. They must spend 
half the day on the road in going to and getting away from 
her,” they said. Then they would politely lament that she 
lived so far from a railway station, and there the matter 
would end. It sometimes struck her as odd that though 
she lived at the same distance from these people that they 
did from her, yet she never found their houses inacces- 
sible ” when they asked her to dinner or tennis, though 
she had only one litttle pony and a small open trap to 
match it, while the majority of her acquaintances possessed 
horses and close carriages. 

But on this special occasion she had faced her diffi- 
culties, fought, and vanquished them creditably. In the 
first place the weather was in her favor. It was an early 


126 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


genial spring, dry and warm — such a spring as the old 
people were accustomed to in “ the forties.’^ There was a 
good expanse of soft hazy blue in the sky ; the wind was 
from the indulgent west. Light frocks and flannel suits 
looked quite seasonable. It was rumored, by those who 
knew, that the Vicarage Tennis Courts, which were gene- 
rally boggy, were for once in excellent order. But beyond 
these inducements Mrs. Gunton held out another that was 
even more seductive. She had got it to be understood— 
published it as a sort of open secret — that those who came 
to her tennis party would have the pleasure of seeing that 
‘‘poor, pretty Miss Arle, who had just been so horribly 
treated by that man about whom nothing was known down 
here.” This rumor reached the ears of many men who 
had admired and liked Florence Arle, and who were rather 
glad of the opportunity of meeting her unfettered by the 
presence of the man about whom no one knew anything 
save that “he seemed to be a very decent fellow, with 
plenty of tin.” It also reached the ears of many women, 
old and young, who neither admired nor liked Florence 
Arle, but who were also extremely glad of the opportunity 
of meeting Florence Arle in this her hour of humiliation. 
These two diverse interests which were felt in her were 
the chief factors in the success of Mrs. Guntou’s tennis 
party. 

It was rather a manipulation of a fact on Mr^.. Gunton’s 
part when she asserted that there was some one coming 
who much wished to meet the girl. The person to whom 
she attributed this very natural desire was unconscious of 
it himself, that is, he was quite unconscious of Miss Arle’s . 
personality, and had only been led into saying he “ should 
like to see her” by the necessity of saying something, after 
having listened for ten minutes at a dinner-party to what 
his neighbor Mrs. Gunton was telling him of the way in 
which “ a girl was being justly punished for the forward 
and almost immodest way in which she had hunted a man 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


127 


who was supposed to be a good match, and who was, at 
any rate, in an immeasurably superior station to the afore- 
said girl.” That sort of conduct is so unwomanly, and so 
general, as you, being a man of such rank and position, 
have found out probably,'^ she had purred gently. And 
the man she addressed had stared slightly at this novel 
champion of her sex’s dignity and replied ; 

‘‘ No, indeed ! never experienced the flattering treatment 
myself. I should like to see the lady who has paid a man 
such a compliment.” 

Oh, I'm sure you’re joking ; but if you’ll come to a 
tennis-party I’m giving on Friday (she only made up her 
mind to give it as she spoke) you shall see her. I’m very 
fond of her myself, she’s quite one of my young favorites — 
though not quite^ you understand — not quite in the class 
in which I should choose to move if I were not circum- 
scribed by circumstances. A clergyman’s wife, you know, 
has her duties, and I always try to do mine.” She paused 
and smiled at him, she was still young enough to hope that 
when she posed as a social martyr to a young man, he 
might find her attractive enough to expend a little pity, 
blended with admiration, upon her. But this young man 
was very dense. He either did not see what was expected 
of him, or the attractions failed to make themselves mani- 
fest to him. 

‘‘ Everybody has duties, but I’m afraid we don’t all make 
your laudable efforts to do them,” he answered absently ; 
“ obtusely,” Mrs. Gunton thought, in her mortification at 
having failed to win him to regard her as a garden-flower 
transplanted to the wilds. She blamed herself for having 
been too ‘Gocal ” in her conversation. Accordingly she 
made the mistake of quitting the pastures whereon she 
was accustomed to browse, and flung herself with heroic, 
but fatuous recklessness into topics of which she knew less 
than the most untutored London street arab. 

‘‘You must find it very dull down here away from the 


128 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


theatres and — and things?^’ She hazarded the remark 
sympathetically, and felt both silly and chilled when he 
first cut the ground from under her feet by saying that 
he hardly ever went to theatres,” and then proceeded to 
bewilder her by speaking of a number of the latest and 
current events in the theatrical and dramatic world, as if 
she ought to be so thoroughly conversant with them as to 
be able to catch his swiftest balls and throw them back. 
It would have been better to have let him think her 
‘‘ local,” she felt, as she sat and listened with the hopeless 
smile of non-comprehension on her face, and tingling all 
over with the consciousness that several of her dearest 
friends were enjoying her discomfiture. The only thing 
that supported her during the remainder of that woeful 
dinner hour was the knowledge that she had secured a 
promise from the man who was the guest of the evening to 
come to her tennis-party ! 

“ What great events from little causes spring ! ” It is 
pathetic to reflect that had not Mrs. Gunton obeyed her 
instincts and flown at the highest social game within her 
ken, Florence Arle would have married the man she 
adored in the course of a few days, and have been — what? 

Did you ever see a prettier get-up for tennis ? But 
how should you know, you’re an old bachelor and don’t 
know a tennis-frock from a tea-gown.” 

‘‘ Don’t I ? seeing I’ve had to pay ” 

‘^What?” Flo interrupted, swinging round to face him 
as she was stepping into the dog-cart which was to take 
them to the Vicarage, had to pay for tennis-frocks and 
tea-gown ” 

‘‘ Had to pay freely for their masculine equivalents, 
blazers and the like, during the wearing of which I’ve seen 
some rather costly specimens of feminine plumage.’' 

‘^Mine isn’t costly, it’s only pretty,” and she looked up 
at him, challenging his taste, from under the projecting 
brim of the neat hat which followed the lines of her head. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


129 


and in which the shades of moss-green and sage-green that 
composed the costume were deftly mingled/' 

Very pretty ! " He almost hustled her up into her 
seat as he spoke, for Violet had told him only a week or 
two before that moss-green and sage-green would be well- 
worn " during the coming season. Very pretty, only I 
happen to hate green." 

Then, after to day I won't wear it, John — though I 
happen to love it," she said quickly, as they drove off — > 
he assuming the reins as if by right ; she submitting to the 
{ assumption, partly because she loved him so much that 
she was ready to submit to anything that he did, and 
partly because her delicate consideration for him prompted 
her to spare him the knowledge that she exceedingly dis- 
liked being driven in her own dog-cart by anyone but 
herself. 

He accepted her concession to his dislike to green 
silently, but he smiled at her approvingly, and they drove 

I on without a word for a time. It was rather a steep 
descent from the yard to the high road, and Florence saw 
that the responsibility of driving a strange, high-spirited 
mare down-hill, over a rugged road thickly strewn with 
loose stones, sat heavily upon her companion. After a 
time, however, the silence became irksome, and she broke 
it by asking : 

Do you mind going to this party, John? I ought to 
have remembered that probably you are satiated with 
tennis, and would rather have stayed at home ouietly after 
all the rushing about you’ve had lately." 

Do you think your uncle will come down to-night? " 
The question seemed so utterly irrelevant that she 
looked round at him curiously as she replied : 

Don't know in the least. Would you rather have 
stayed at home on the chance of welcoming him ? " 

Faith, no ! It’s not much of a welcome he’ll get from 
me. The fact is, Flo, I don’t want to hurt your mother’s 

5 


130 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


feelings by expressing my honesl opinion of her brother, 
but that uncle of yours is about as ill-conditioned an old 
bear as ever had the power given over to him of growling 
unrebuked in a family/’ 

‘‘ I’m glad you didn’t say that to mother ; she would 
have thought you so unjust, for never once in all these 
years of goodness to us have we heard a ‘ growl ’ from 
dear Uncle Joe. What has put that idea into your head 
about him ? ” 

His beastly manner to me in town. The fact is, Flo, 
he’s a narrow-minded, selfish, old fossil-hearted fellow. It 
suits him to be called the benefactor of the Arles, but he 
wants to keep every member of the Arle family in bondage 
in return for his beneficence. Now you have taken an 
altogether unlooked for departure. You will be out of his 
reach — beyond him ! — in a position that is so much over 
his head that he will be unable to play the part of provi- 
dence in it. This annoys him ! I really believe he would 
rather have seen you married to one of his stable boys. 
You would have been under his control then ; as it is, 
when you are my wife ” 

‘‘You’ll never wish your wife to be mean and ungrate- 
ful, John. Why, even if I didn’t love dear old Uncle Joe, 

I should always treat him with all the respect I know how 
to show. Think of what he has done for my father and 
mother ! We should have been homeless and penniless 
since father’s affliction if it hadn’t been for Uncle Joe. 
You’ll never, never wish me to seem careless of him, John. 
The thought of having the dear old man to stay with me ■ 
in my very own home, where I can make much of him, 
and repay him a very little for all his kindness to me ” 

“ I shall only wish you to consult your husband’s dignity > 
a little, Flo. Mr. Cadly is a violently prejudiced old man, | 
and has taken a dislike to me.” | 

“ Indeed he hasn’t.” 

“ But, indeed, I assure you he has. I bore with his {{ 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


131 

K chawbacon insolence for your sake. But it was rather 
C exhausting work, that effort to be tolerant and calm after 
C the weeks of wearing, incessant labor which I had been 
undergoing in order that I might make your married life 
^ happier.’^ 

[ Uncle Joe insolent to you ! Now you must have mis- 
; taken him. Why, John, he's never rough to a stable cat, 

; he’s got the gentlest heart — he couldn't be insolent.” 

The girl was quivering with the earnestness and emotion 
' she threw into her defence of the old uncle who had been 
; the means of giving her all the pleasures she had known 
^ in life previous to the appearance of Mr. Phillipps upon 
f the canvas. The road had slipped away from under them 
[ unoibserved, and they were at the vicarage gates with the 
; Uncle Joe question still unsolved between them. 

When a woman drags people to the uttermost ends of 
‘ the earth to give her an excuse for having tennis-lawn, she 
f might have the common decency to have her infernal gate 

I opened,” Mr. Phillipps grumbled as he got out of the dog- 
cart, grazing one shin raspingly in the process. As he 
jerked the gate open to its widest extent another carriage 
rolled up behind them, in which were seated the wife of 
the colonel of a regiment that had recently been quartered 
in Plymouth, and Sir Lionel Halford. 

The gate was a light iron one, opening inwards to the 
garden, and Mr. Phillipps was holding it with a couple of 
fingers only. As the dog-cart passed through, the gate 
slipped from under these two fingers, and swung back, 
causing a little excitement in the minds of the horses in 
the carriage immediately behind them, and a consequent 
delay. 

‘‘ Do stop and see if you can help them, John ! ” Florence 
Arle said, peremptorily, as she heard the horses plunge, 
and the lady in the carriage cry out in alarm. But Mr. 
Phillipps had jumped into the dog-cart and driven off 
rapidly before her lips could frame the request. 


132 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


Don^t try to hinder me, dear,'' he said, speaking with 
an evident effort, I’ve got one of those confounded 
attacks coming on. Ask your friend to let me lie down 
for an hour in a dark room, and I shall soon be all right 
again." 

He had dashed along the short drive, and up to the 
Vicarage drive as he was speaking. His face had grown 
very pale. Fortunately a groom relieved them of the care 
of the horse at once, and they were in the house before 
the carriage following them drove up to the door. 

It is Mr. Phillipps — he is ill, may he go into Mr. 
Gunton’s study and keep quiet?" Florence asked her 
hostess, who had come forward to meet them from the 
midst of a group who were having cake and claret-cup at 
a buffet in the hall. 

‘‘ He shall come and rest in my own little sanctum. It is 
such an unlooked for pleasure to see you at all, Mr. Phillipps, 
I am sure we will all try to make you comfortable now we 
have got you here again. Come in here, this is my little 
den, and here you shall be quite undisturbed. Only the 
chosen few shall come and talk to you. and Florence shall 
choose them." 

She lowered the blind to tone down the radiant beams 
of the afternoon sun, and stirred the wood fire to a cheer- 
ful blaze as she spoke, and Mr. Phillipps almost blessed 
her for the garrulity which spared him the necessity of 
speaking. 

“ Directly I feel better I’ll join you on the lawn,’’ he 
told her ; “ till then I’m better alone — even without 
Florence.’* 


TffAT OTHER WOMAN, 


133 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A NARROW ESCAPE. 

Sir Lionel had looked round when the horses jibbed at 
the clanging of the gates in their faces, and caught a faint 
glimpse of the man who was stepping into the dog-cart 
just ahead of them. 

“Who’s that? I seem to know him?” he asked hur- 
riedly of his companion. She raised her eyes and looked 
in the wrong direction, and shook her head carelessly. 

“ I don’t know any of the aborigines,” she said scorn- 
fully. “ I only came here to-day to please you, Lionel ; 
don’t expect me to give you names and descriptions of 
any of the people you meet.” 

“You are awfully good to come for what you imagined 
my pleasure,” he laughed; “though how the notion got 
into your mind that I was craving for tennis to-day ” 

“ Oh, not that, not that at all ; only this Mrs. Gunton 
turned into the barracks (hearing you were staying with 
us) to call on me, and she told me of some local beauty 
whom you’re dying to see. So I thought I’d bring you 
for the fun of the thing. I wonder if Susan will see the 
fun of it if the local beauty annexes you ? ” 

The lady who spoke was a cousin of Lady Susan Mea- 
dows, therefore her impertinences were rarely resented by 
Sir Lionel Halford. 

“ Take care not to tell her any apocryphal stories about 
me, for she’s sure to pass them on to me, and then you’ll 
be brought to confusion,” he said, laughingly, as they 
drew up at the hall door. The fleeting impression he had 
received from the back view of the man in the dog-cart 


134 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


had passed from his mind by the time Mrs. Gunton had 
greeted them. And when that lady had explained that 
she had just settled Mr. Phillipps in a darkened room,” 
he failed to associate the name with the impression of 
‘‘ seeming to know the man.’^ 

‘‘ Poor Miss Arle,” Mrs. Gunton was plaintively ad- 
dressing them both alternately, as she piloted them 
towards the garden. ‘‘Poor Miss Arle has only just 
arrived, and he is with her — the man I told you about. Sir 
Lionel, who had been treating her so badly, you know — 
quite a little romance ; Mrs. Burley, you, with your know- 
ledge of the world, will understand how bad it looks when 
a stranger proposes to marry a girl without introducing 
any of his family or friends to her. However, we must 
hope for the best, for she is really a very pretty girl, and 
it will be a thousand pities if he ends by jilting her.” 
Then she sent an engaging smile in the direction of the 
pretty girl in question, and introduced her to the two new 
comers. 

“You must not be uneasy — do enjoy your game. I 
will take care of Mr. Phillipps. You must let me tell him 
that you are not anxious.’’ 

Mrs. Gunton managed to say this in an affectedly con- 
fidential whisper that was distinctly audible to all who 
stood near them. There was no affectation of confidential 
secrecy in Florence’s reply. She spoke out boldly, and 
Sir Lionel Halford liked her for it. 

“ I’m not a bit anxious, thank you, Mrs. Gunton. Mr. 
Phillipps is subject to these attacks. I shall have to get 
used to them. They’re not dangerous.” 

She felt in some indefinable way that she was being put | 
on the defence about her lover, and she felt very defiant. J 
But defiant as she felt there was nothing but gentle cour- < 
tesy in her manner of answering the bitterly sweet j 
insinuations of her hostess. 

“ She’s a plucky brick of a girl,” Sir Lionel Halford 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


135 


thought as he strolled along by her side towards the tennis 
court. Long years had fled since he first posed in these 
pages as Violet Grove’s lover, and those years in passing 
had not turned him into greater comeliness. He was 
much ruddier and fatter than when we first knew him. 
There was but little eye-brow and still less eye-lash em- 
ployed in the shading of his face. Nevertheless it was a 
good, kind face Florence saw, and she felt pleased that 
fate and Mrs. Gunton had assigned him to her for a time. 

‘‘ The next set is already arranged. I am afraid I must 
ask you to wait ! ” Mr. Gunton explained to them. Take 
a turn round the garden and look at my anemones, will 
you ? Come along.” 

They went with him, but long before they reached the 
beds of anemones in the garden at the other end of the 
house, Mr. Gunton was called back, and Florence and Sir 
Lionel Halford strolled on alone. 

They admired the gorgeous blaze, and discussed the re- 
spective merits of anemones and ranunculuses until they 
exhausted their subject and found themselves stranded on 
a high and dry bank of silence, from which it was rather an 
effort to launch the conversational barque again. Florence 
faced the difficulty first, for Sir Lionel Halford was lost in 
wondering amazement at the idea of any one conceiving 
it to be possible that any man could throw such a girl 
over ! Mixed with this feeling was a strong desire to see 
the man who was suspected of such gross folly by Mrs. 
Gunton. He was unconscious himself of the intensity 
and earnestness of the gaze he was fixing upon her as 
these reflections passed through his mind. But when she 
looked up from the anemone bed suddenly and spoke to 
him, her face told him what his look at her had been. 

‘‘ I was thinking,'’ she said, that the window with the 
blind half down must be the room where Mrs. Gunton put 
Mr. Phillipps to get over his headache.’' 

“ What made you say you must get used to his attacks ? " 
he asked, aud she told him quite easily. 


136 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


“ Don^t you know that I am to be married to him very 
soon ? I forgot, though, you’re a stranger and probably 
haven’t heard anything about it. Well, I am going to 
marry him, and so I must learn to bear my anxieties 
quietly when these attacks come on, for he’s subject to 
them.” 

You are anxious ? ” She looked at him steadily, the 
little half-frown on her brow. 

You’re not married, or you would know that a woman 
can’t help being anxious if anything ails him if she loves 
her husband.” 

I’m not married. I’ve never had the luck to get the 
woman I loved to love me,” he said with as much bitter- 
ness as his kindly soul could manage to impart into his 
words. Then he looked round and saw that they were 
quite alone in this part of the garden, and so drawing a 
little nearer to her he muttered : 

‘‘ Run up to the window and ask him how he is ? it will 
do him more good than all Mrs. Gimton’s attentions ; no 
one will see you, and I won’t say a word about it.” 

The warm, sympathetic grateful blood rushed in a flood 
over her face, and Mr. Phillipps, watching the pair from 
the window of the half-darkened room, where he was 
recovering himself, saw the look that accompanied the 
blush, and misinterpreted it. 

‘‘ That fellow is flattering her ; he has a title, and his 
idiotic words of flattery please her ! Curse him ! ” he 
thought, “ if he catches sight of me, I’m a lost man ! ” 
Even as he thought it, Florence parted from her com- 
panion, ran across the grass, and tapped at the window. 

Are you better, John dear, is your head better ? ” she 
asked, and he groaned out in reply that he ‘‘ was worse, 
much worse ! couldn’t she come round quietly and order 
the dog-cart, and get away without making a fuss ? ” 

“ I must say good-bye to Mrs. Gunton, but I can easily 
do that and slip away without anyone else knowing it. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


137 

That’s Sir Lionel Halford over there on the lawn. John, 
he’s a nice fellow ! I wish you could have seen him ! ” 

Another groan from the sofa on which Mr. Phillipps 
was huddled up was the sole reply to this, and it was the 
most telling reply he could have made, for it conveyed to 
Florence’s mind the idea that he was suffering almost into- 
lerably. Which, indeed, was the case ! The agony of the 
dread of detection, the agony of shame which he suffered 
from in anticipation if he was detected, affected his whole 
nervous system and made his head ache as though it had 
been filled with physical instead of only moral pollution. 

I won’t even say good-bye to Mrs. Gunton, I’ll come 
at once,” she hastened to reassure him, and he assented to 
the plan eagerly. 

As she turned from the window Sir Lionel Halford 
crossed over from the flower beds and stopped her. 

You look awfully distressed, can I be of any use?” 
he asked. 

I am distressed ; Mr. Phillipps is worse. I want to 
get away without making a fuss. Say to Mrs. Gunton 
that I was obliged to go suddenly, as he is worse.” 

Let me order your trap for you.” 

No, no, if you are missing any longer there’ll be an 
exploring and recovery party in search of you. Go back 
to the tennis courts, please, and don’t say anything till 
we’re clear off.” 

“ I will do exactly what you desire me to do, and I hope 
you will allow me to call and enquire for the cause of your 
anxiety? You have made this afternoon very pleasant to 
me, I wish you had not been obliged to go aWay.” 

“ Of course you may call.” Then she gave him the 
name of her uncle’s house, shook hands with him and ran 
off, little thinking that the brief parting scene had roused 
a devil of jealousy in the breast of the man to whom all 
her heart and nearly all her thoughts were given. 

That pudding-headed idiot had better keep out of my 


r//AT OTHER WOMAN, 


138 

way/’ Mr. Phillipps mused resentfully, as he peeped from 
behind the curtain. Then he smiled miserably, grimly 
recognising a pitiful Nemesis in this that his wife’s first 
love should be attracted to the point of annoying him 
(Phillipps-Twysden) by Florence. 

‘‘ Moral old ladies would say it ‘ served me right ’ if she 
chucked me over for that fat little fool who has hung on 
to his one idea’d love for Violet all these years.” The 
thought of Violet brought Jack to his memory, and with a 
savage exclamation, made under his breath, of impatience 
at not having heard ‘‘ how the little chap is to-day,” he 
obeyed the summons Florence sent him to slip out by a 
side door and get into the dog-cart in the stable yard. 

She was on the box seat with the reins in her hands 
when he went out, and he made no attempt to alter the 
arrangement. He was constrained and suppressed, and a 
little bit frightened, to tell the truth. 

You drive, Flo, dear,” he said moodily, as he got up 
by her side. ‘‘ There’s something in this atmosphere that 
brings out every rheumatic tendency I have inherited from 
a long line of remarkably rheumatic ancestors.” 

Take this Shetland scarf and wrap round your throat, 
John,” she suggested, and he grasped the white fleecy 
material and half covered his face in its folds. 

Now drive home fast, and pray God we don’t find 
that your respected uncle has turned up in our absence. 
I’m not disposed to stroke Bruin to-day.” 

You’re not like yourself ; you speak as if someone had 
tried to injure you ! ” 

It’s the pain, the pain, my child ! Never mind, you 
have enjoyed yourself. I saw you humbugging with that 
fellow over the spring flowers. Don’t stop, Flo ; drive on, 
drive on ! ” 

Mrs. Gun ton and Sir Lionel were in the drive directly 
in their path. It was impossible to drive on ! Moreover, 
Florence had no intention of attempting to do it roughly. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


139 


I must pull up and say good-bye. I can’t be rude 
enough to pass without stopping to speak to her,” the girl 
expostulated, reproachfully, while Mr. Phillipps raised his 
hat for a moment, and the next lowered his face down and 
half covered it with his handkerchief as if in excessive 
pain. In that one moment Sir Lionel had recognised, or 
thought he recognised, Phillipps-Twysden. Before he 
could speak, however, the mettlesome mare had pulled on 
a few paces — Florence was looking round, and trying to 
explain her sudden departure — Mrs. Gunton was inter- 
rupting her with loud and wordy expressions of regret — 
Phillipps-Twysden himself was muttering an entreaty to 
Florence to drive on, for heaven’s sake — and there was 
a general atmosphere of confusion. In that atmosphere 
Phillipps-Twysden escaped for a time. As the mare 
plunged forward Sir Lionel exclaimed ; 

‘‘ I never saw such a likeness in my life ! I could have 
sworn as they drove up that that man was a fellow I knew, 
called Phillipps-Twysden.” 

‘‘ I should never be surprised to hear that he had a 
dozen aliases. Never ! ” Mrs. Gunton replied promptly. 

Remember I know nothing about him ; in fact, no one 
about here knows anything about him. The Arles must 
be very eager to get their daughter married, to consent to 
an engagement with a man who is a perfect stranger to 
everyone who is anyone in the neighborhood.” 

What brought him here ? ” Sir Lionel asked musingly. 

‘‘ No one knows — at least, I don’t. And you think he’s 
someone else under another name, don’t you ? Dear me ! 
it’s quite interesting, and grieved as I shall be on poor 
Florence Arle’s account, I shall look upon it as quite a 
just judgment on her parents for having thrown her at his 
head as they must have done.” 

Poor girl ! I must be mistaken ; I mean I hope I’m 
mistaken,” Sir Lionel said hurriedly. 


140 


THAT OTHER WO MAH. 


Why do you hope you’re mistaken ? isn’t the man you 
take him to be respectable ? ” 

Quite respectable, but married ! ” Sir Lionel said reluc- 
tantly. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE BALL SET ROLLING. 

“ Is Phillipps-Twysden at Houndell ? Let me know at 
once,” Sir Lionel wrote to his friend, Lady Susan Meadows, 
by the night’s post. For the sake of the true girl with 
whom he had looked at the anemones, he had done his 
best to exorcise the demon of suspicion which his own 
unguarded remarks to Mrs. Gunton had roused in the 
local mind. He had even gone so far as to assert that his 
second glance at the man in the dog-cart had shown him 
that his first glance had misled him. 

Second glances, like second thoughts, are the best, 
you know ! ” he had said to Mrs. Gunton on their way 
back to the tennis courts. He can’t be the man I took 
him for, so perhaps you’ll kindly say nothing about it. 
He might have me up for libel, you know.” 

‘‘ You may rely on my discretion,” Mrs. Gunton said 
sweetly. Within the next quarter of an hour her discretion 
had led her to tell each one of her guests, in confidence,” 
that Sir Lionel Halford had been quite startled by Mr. 
Phillipps’ resemblance to a man he knew in London as a 
married man. And wasn’t it shocking if it should turn 
out to be the case ? though of course everyone would 
regret it, and would sympathise deeply with the poor girl 
if she was humbled — justly humbled ! — in such a way. 

Meanwhile Florence was having a miserable drive back 
to Eastmoor. For some minutes after the brief encounter 
with Mrs. Gunton and Sir Lionel, her companion did not 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


141 

speak. When at last he did so, his nervous shaking tones 
alarmed her. 

If I am not more myself after a night’s rest, I shall go 
up and see my doctor in town again to-morrow,” he 
managed to articulate, but his voice shook, and his whole 
attitude and bearing were suggestive of his dreading or 
shrinking from something terrible. The girl who loved him 
and was unsuspicious of him, naturally thought this ner- 
vousness was caused by his having either a knowledge or a 
presentiment that his illness was likely to develop into 
something of a dangerous nature. All her generous 
womanly instincts were roused by this idea, and she 
longed to tell him that come what would she would be a 
true wife, nurse, comforter to him. Her impulse was 
checked by the thought that perhaps he would think her 
bold and forward and unduly anxious to be married to 
him if she urged her willingness to take him for better or 
worse just at this moment, when he seemed so absorbed 
in his own ailments. As she hesitated, and finally only 
brought out a common-place remark to the effect that 
she hoped he would soon be better, and surely the pure 
moor air must do him more good than London’s smoky 
atmosphere,” he went on — his voice trembling, his head 
still bowed down, and his face still half muffled in the folds 
of the white Shetland scarf : 

What I am going to say will sound very pitiful, Tm 
afraid, Flo, my darling. But I had better say it and have 
done with it. I have had a warning to day that I dare not dis- 
regard ! Before I marry you my health must be thoroughly 
re-established. The only way for this to be done effectually 
is to put myself under strict medical treatment and super- 
vision. To do this I must be in London and — leave you for 
a time.” 

“ Leave me ! ” 

Only for a time, until I am well again,” he said hur- 
riedly, for the sorrow in her face told him what her bitter 


142 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


agony would be should she ever find him out to be what 
he was 1 

Your mother will understand my reasons better than 
you can, my darling ! Do you think I should propose 
such a course for any light reasons ? No, no ! you know 
me too well. Thank heaven, you love me too well to mis- 
understand me to such an extent as that. Our parting 
will not be for long, dear I Don’t make it harder for me 
by mistrusting me.” 

I shall never do that,” she said simply; ‘Mt will be 
heart-breaking to have you go away ill, but I’ll try and 
keep all the pain to myself. Not even mother must know 
how I shall feel it. Tell her I think you’re right ; settle it 
all with her. Only don’t ask me to speak of it. We 
seemed to be so near to the time when we should belong 
entirely to one another, and now — now this has come ! 
and I can't bear to look forward.” 

Nor can I, or to look back either,” was the inward 
thought which he dared not utter ! How he regretted 
now that he had let his selfish passion for her bind him to 
this girl who had twined more closely round his heart than 
his wife had ever done, and to whose very existence he 
knew he had become necessary. He could have killed Sir 
Lionel or to have sent him without compunction into a 
lunatic asylum or a convict prison for the term of his 
natural life for having been such an untimely marplot. 
The sight of the man who had been his friend down here, 
on what he had regarded as such safe ground as far as his 
own acquaintances were concerned, had been a severe 
shock to him in very truth. It made him pause on the 
brink of the precipice into which he had been ready to 
plunge. Not that it banished the purpose he had of going 
through the form of marriage eventually with Florence 
from his mind, but it frightened him from carrying that 
purpose into effect till Sir Lionel’s partial recognition of 
him should have passed from his, Sir Lionel’s, mind. So 


THAT OTHER' WOMAH. 


143 


he resolved to go back to Houndell the next day, where 
Sir Lionel would hear of him from Lady Susan and be 
satisfied against the evidence of his own eyes that Phillipps- 
Twysden could not have been the man. 

Florence Arle^s long experience of young, restive and 
cunningly-shifty horses served her in good stead this day. 
She had learned in dealing w’th them to cultivate and 
practise the most complete self-control and composure, 
and she called these qualities into play now. 

We are home earlier than we expected to be, because 
John is not well,'’ she explained to her mother as she came 
into the room where Mr. and Mrs. Arle were having tea ; 
he will tell you what he proposes doing, mother, and you 
must know that I think he is quite right. I quite agree 
with his doing it.^' 

He doesn't want to be married to-morrow, I hope ? ” 
Mrs. Arle faltered. 

“ Indeed, no; you will not get rid of me for a long time, 
I fancy, dear. But John will tell you himself, by-and-bye. 
Be very kind to him when he tells you, mother, won’t you ? 
He is ill, and he makes himself worse by fretting about 
having to put off the wedding. You'll be very kind to 
him, won't you, mother dear? ” 

She spoke earnestly, but with such perfect steady com- 
posure that no one would have suspected that her heart 
was almost dying within her. She looked from one to the 
other of her parents, as she stood there in her pretty moss 
and sage-green costume, and they were rather inclined to 
think that she took the matter too coolly. 

He doesn’t want to marry yet ? Well ! I never, after 
having made such a fuss and flurried me about it," Mrs. 
Arle spoke in a tone of supreme annoyance. She was not 
at all desirous of getting rid of her daughter, but when a 
mother has wrought herself up to the point of procuring 
the wedding garments and contemplating the immediately 
approaching separation with placidity, it is discouraging 
to be told that she has prepared herself in vain, 


144 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


“ He doesn’t want to throw you over, does he ? ” Mr. 
Arle roused himself to say, painfully. And Florence went 
round and hid her face on her father’s shoulder, as she 
answered : 

No, dear ! I am quite satisfied. What he says is right. 
What he wishes to do is for the best.” 

What the explanation was with which Mr. Phillipps 
favored Mrs. Arle with respect to his change of plans need 
not be recorded here. It is enough to say that Florence’s 
mother came out from her interview with him more pre- 
possessed with his admirable unselfish qualities than she 
had even been before. She declared him to be “ one in a 
thousand for discretion and forethought,” and spent a 
long time in the kitchen that evening preparing some 
extra strong savory jelly and soup for him. She offered 
him a box of her own favorite infallible pills, of which the 
patient was directed to take five the first night, ten the 
second, and so on, adding five each night to the dose until 
the consumption arrived at forty-five. Then, according 
to the printed directions on the box, it was deemed pru- 
dent to stop. 

He was leaning out of his bedroom window, leisurely 
casting the pills down into the yard where the fowls might 
find and partake of them in the morning, when he saw a 
lumbering station fly drive into the yard, and the next 
minute he heard Mr. Cadly’s voice shouting out an inquiry 
as to whether “ they’d all gone to bed.” 

‘‘ If that old miscreant has got hold of anything, I may 
as well throw up the game,” he thought, drawing back into 
the room. He seemed to see Florence’s eyes fixed upon 
him already with a look of contempt which was unsoftened 
by love or pity, or even reproach. ‘‘No, I couldn’t face 
that,” he told himself, and he drew near to the door re- 
solving that if he heard Uncle Joe burst forth in a roar of 
furious invective and denunciation on hearing he (Phillipps) 
was in the house, he would make his way out of it at once, 
and leave Florence Arle’s life unspoiled. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


I4S 

Anxiety and desperate fear made his hearing uncommon- 
ly acute. The old house had thick walls, and his bedroom 
was situated at the extreme end of the corridor, the furthest 
point from the staircase which led down to the parlor 
where the family were assembled. Nevertheless, in spite 
of the distance, he heard the tones in which they spoke, 
though the words were indistinct. And these tones re- 
assured him. Uncle Joe had not come home a triumphant 
detective, with the catalogue of Phillipps-Twysden’s mis- 
doings at his fingers’ ends, that was certain. Had it been 
otherwise there would have been less grumbling and more 
declaration on the old man’s part. Then he heard a long 
drawn out plaintive monologue from Mrs. Arle, and 
intuition told him she was enlarging on his sad physical 
trials, and describing with what exemplary patience and 
fortitude he was bearing them and the disappointments 
they involved. And then — most reassuring sound of all, 
he heard Florence laugh as she rattled out an account of 
the means her mother had been prescribing for his cure. 

If she can joke about me to her uncle, and he can 
listen to her joke, I’m all safe as far as the old boy knows, 
but ! — I shall still go to Houndell to-morrow.” 

The fact is Mr. Joe Cadly had come home a humbled 
and sadly disappointed man. He was still sure as ever 
in his own mind that there was something not only shady 
but distinctly dark about the character and career of the 
man who wanted to marry his niece, but he had been 
unable to put his finger upon the dark spot. He was left 
clambering up on an omnibus, to a seat by the side of 
Major Noel, who had been the means of introducing Phil- 
lipps to Mrs.Broadhurst, and through her to Florence. But 
all Major Noel’s best intentioned attempts to fully satisfy 
the old man’s curiosity or suspicions, or whatever it might 
be, were unavailing. 

“ I can assure you I’ve known him for years, and Pve 
always found him one of the best fellows in the world,’' 


146 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


the good-hearted soldier said heartily ; and when old Joe 
Cadly shook an unbelieving head, he added, what are 
you driving at ? Tell me fairly and I’ll answer you in the 
same way ! ” 

‘‘ Mightn^t he be married already, and you not know it, 
Major Noel? ” 

‘‘ Impossible, Mr. Cadly ! 

‘‘ Mightn’t he have another name and you not know it, 
sir?” 

Hardly likely. I’ve known John Phillipps too long 
and well for me to be mistaken about his name.” 

‘‘ Then I can tell you he is known to some as ‘ Twysden! ’ ” 
Mr. Cadly whispered mysteriously; but Major Noel, who 
was just on the point of getting off the ’bus, only laughed, 
and did not seem to consider the matter at all important. 

So it came to pass that Mr. Cadly came home as full of 
dreary, unsolved suspicions as he had been when he went 
away. But they were still merely suspicions. He was as 
far from having reached the hideous truth as ever. 

Accordingly, he had no excuse for not shaking hands 
with his odious guest when that guest, at an early hour on 
the following morning, took his departure, amidst the 
sympathetic condolences of the rest of the family. 

“ May his shadow never darken these doors again, and 
may it soon be lifted off my little Flo’s life,” was the 
fervent prayer of the old horse trainer, as he went about 
his business. He was, if possible, more gentle and more 
considerate for Florence that day than he had ever been 
before. 

“ We’ve got our nestle-bird to ourselves again — ^no 
lovers in the way, thank God ! ” he said, when they sat 
down to dinner, and Florence smiled bravely and said : 

Perhaps you’ll have the nestle-bird here all her life, 
Uncle Joe.” 

Not all her life — but all mine, I hope.” 

‘‘ If the lover who has just gone never comes back, 
Other lovers must never come here.” 


THAT OTHER PVOMAH. 


147 


“ Why do you say that ? Why do you think he'll never 
come back ? " Mr. Cadly asked with inconsistent angry 
fervor. In spite of everything that had passed through 
his mind with regard to Mr. Phillipps, it annoyed him that 
she should even herself hint at the possibility of any man 
jilting her. 

Why do I say it ? O, because — because my happiness 
seems slipping from me," she said, and then at last she 
broke down and sobbed a little, while these tender hearts 
shivered and smarted under each sob, feeling that for all 
their deep love for her, they were powerless to ease her of 
one bit of her burden. 


CHAPTER XX. 

A CONFESSION OF FALLIBILITY. 

Lady Susan’s answer did not reach Sir Lionel Halford 
for a few days ; when it came it was entirely reassuring^ 
and convinced him that he had been completely mistaken 
in supposing he had seen Phillipps-Twysden at Mrs. Gun- 
ton’s garden party. His correspondent forgot to tell him 
that she had been absent from the Houndell neighborhood 
for a few days. She wrote merely, I went to Houndell 
yesterday, and found dear little Jack slowly struggling 
back through convalescence to health. Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden was there. What made you ask the question ? 
Violet looks worn and sad, and I fancy that she and her 
husband are surely and not very slowly drifting farther 
and farther apart. But he b devoted to his boy, there is 
no doubt of that. He was in the room all the while I was 
there, so my intercourse with Violet was rather stilted, as 
it always is in his presence." Then she wound up with 
some message to Mrs. Burley, that cousin of hers with 
whom he was staying, and told him how glad her mother 


148 


THAT OTHER WOMAH 


and herself would be to meet him again when they all 
went back to town. As she signed herself in the ordinary 
way she thought, ‘‘ I shall always be that ‘ his faithfully/ 
but I shall never get any nearer to him.” And she smiled, 
half with pity, half with contempt at the clinging weakness 
which had kept her his ‘‘faithfully” and “ unrequitedly ** 
all these years. 

When he got this letter he made one more effort to set 
the matter of his supposed mistake straight before he left 
the neighborhood, by quoting Lady Susan’s letter to Mrs. 
Burley. But Mrs. Burley had already entirely forgotten 
both the names and personalities of the pair who had so 
deeply interested Sir Lionel. 

“ I remember you did go off with a girl to look at some-» 
thing or other, and that you stayed away a long time. You 
say she is pretty? I forgot her.” 

“ She was a very charming girl, and I made a stupid 
mistake about the fellow she is engaged to.” 

“ Oh, yes, she’s engaged to a married man, or something 
ghastly of that kind. Really, these quiet country girls 
beat us hollow when they do take to the war-path.” Mrs. 
Burley spoke quite merrily, and disgusted him with her 
frivolity as much as he was already disgusted with his own 
indiscretion, 

“ I’m telling you that I made a mistake. The man Miss 
Arle is engaged to isn’t the fellow I took him to be. Don’t 
you hear what Lady Susan says ? ” and again he read the 
passage in Lady Susan’s letter which related to the 
Groves. 

Mrs. Burley’s thoughts were far away in some happy 
hunting ground of her own while he read. When he stop- 
ped and looked at her in expectation of some comment of 
comprehension she recalled her mind from its pleasant 
tour through past and present successes and said : 

“ How sick Susan and you must be of writing to one 
another. It must be so monotonous, you might just as 
well be married.” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


149 


You didn’t listen to a word I read. Don’t you under- 
stand ? I want you, if you meet Mrs. Gunton or any of 
those people again, to correct a false impression which I 

was stupid enough to give ” 

I never corrected anything, much less an impression, 
in my life,” the lady laughed, and he gave up the futile 
attempt to make a vain, flattered, frivolous woman feel an 
interest in a matter that did not concern herself. 

After this he made one effort to find out where Miss Arle 
lived, in order to make enquiry for the man who had been 
taken ill at the garden party an excuse for calling on her. 
But here, again, he was frustrated by Mrs. Burley’s 
inability to interest herself in outsiders. 

I believe the girl’s house is somewhere in the middle of 
Dartmoor, miles from every place one can get at by train ; 
and as for going to Mrs. Gunton’s to find out, I tell you 
fairly, I never mean to go near Mrs. Gunton again if I can 
help it. She bores me, and if you go she’ll take it as an 
encouragement to follow me up, and pretend to be intimate 
with me. Besides, what do you want to see the girl again 
for ? I suppose she’s fond of the man who has a wife 
all ready, or she wouldn’t want to marry him ; so you’d 
stand no chance with her.” 

“ If you would only condescend to listen to me, you 
would understand that ‘ the man,’ as you call him, has no 
wife, and you would leave off making mischievous 
assertions about his being already married.” 

You made the assertion yourself, or I shouldn’t 
have known anything about it, and I really don’t care 
about it one way or the other. Only I’m not going to 
drag my horses miles over bad roads that break the 
springs of the carriage to garden parties in the wilds any 
more to please any one. If you want to cultivate Mrs. 
Gunton and the girl who wants to commit bigamy, you 
may go by yourself.” 

‘‘ If you’ll listen to reason, Mrs. Burley ” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


ISO 

1 should never listen to you in that case,” she laughed, 
and then, rather than give the subject an undue 
importance in her mind and enable her to still farther 
misrepresent it, he let it drop. 

But though he did not see or hear anything more of 
Florence Arle, he often thought of the only woman who 
had had the power to interest him deeply, since Violet 
Grove had left him for his friend Phillipps-Twysden. 

Unluckily, the interest he had taken in her did her 
far more harm than good in the limited circle which 
composed her world. Sir Lionel’s remark was repeated 
and commented upon, paraphrased, edited, re-trimmed, 
and garnished out of all resemblance to its original unim- 
portance. This only for a few days, certainly, but at the 
end of those few days, though people forgot both what 
the remark implied and also what they had said and 
implied about it, the impression remained that ‘‘ there 
was something very queer about Florence Arle’s affair,” 
and Mrs. Broadhurst was often put upon the defensive by 
hearing slighting mention made of her favorite. 

To Florence herself there were few who ventured to say 
anything that sounded disparaging or doubtful about the 
man to whom she had utterly surrendered her heart and 
judgment. Every little look or incident that had some- 
times startled and sometimes worried her in their inter- 
course she blotted out from her memory now, and 
remembered only what was manly and frank and loving 
about him. Uncle Joe, humbled by the reflection that he 
had been baffled in his researches after something bad in 
Mr. Phillipps’ antecedents by his ignorance of London life 
generally and of Mr. Phillipps’ London career particularly, 
was obliged to content himself now with openly hoping 
for the best, and secretly fearing the worst. Mr. Arle was 
too well contented to keep his daughter with him during 
the little that he felt remained to him of life to either feel 
or express indignation at her lover leaving her with them 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


151 

yet awhile. While as for Mrs. Arle, she was only one 
degree less infatuated with Mr. Phillipps than her 
daughter. 

So though it was weary waiting/' Florence rode, ate, 
drank, and slept much as usual, supported through the 
tedious time by the belief in his unselfish love for her, a 
portionless girl, and by the knowledge of her great love 
for him. He wrote to her frequently, if not regularly, and 
his health seemed to be steadily, though slowly, improving. 
It might be, he sometimes hinted, that he would be unable 
to carry out his first intention, and give her a home in the 
country near her parents. The battle of life was a fierce 
one, and he might be compelled to fight it in London ! 
To this note of warning Florence replied enthusiastically 
in the Wherever thou art will be Erin to me ” strain, and 
so the plan of residence difficulty which he had felt might 
be a hindrance, was swept away before him. Then 
ensued a long and confidential correspondence between 
the ardent lovers and the anxious mother, which resulted in 
Mrs. Arle declaring her intention of going up to London 
for a holiday, and taking Florence with her.” 

‘‘ I s’pose while you’re in London you’ll see Mr. 
Phillipps?” uncle Joe suggested, to which Mrs. Arle 
replied, nervously : 

‘‘ It would be odd indeed if we didn’t ; unnatural, I 
should say. But some people seem to take pleasure in 
thinking Mr. Phillipps is ready to be guilty of odd and 
unnatural conduct at any given opportunity.” 

“ I hope you will be as ready to stick up for him when 
he has been your son-in-law for a year as you are now ” 
The more I know of him, the more I shall value him, 
I feel sure of that, Joe.” 

I confess I haven’t such great expectation about him, 
but there, there, what’s the use of talking when I’m such 
an old fool that I can do nothing better than talk,” the old 
man said bitterly. On which his sister was m.erciful, 


152 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


assuring him that she knew he meant well in all he said 
but that he couldn’t be expected to understand such a 
man as Mr. Phillipps as well as she did. 

“ A woman isn’t often deceived in the character of a man 
who wants to marry her daughter.” 

‘‘ I thought that, as a rule, she was deceived until the 
man was married to her daughter,” he said, smiling at his 
sister’s credulous confidence in that most unreliable 
quality, her own judgment. Well, my dear, I hope noth- 
ing rash will be done. If Mr. Phillipps will bring any of 
his family forward and marry our child before them like a 
man. I’ll — I’ll alter my opinion of him.” 

Mrs. Arle looked at her narrow-minded brother pity- 
ingly. 

The day before they were to go up, Florence rode over 
to say good-bye for a fortnight to Mrs. Broadhurst. 

What takes you there, Flo? ” 

“ The train and my mother’s wishes,” Florence said, 
laughing happily, ‘‘ and of course I’m delighted to go. I 
shall see Mr. Phillipps.” 

“ I didn’t know Mrs. Arle had any friends left in town. 
I.ondon is the abomination of desolation to people who 
know nothing of its ways, and have no friends there.” 

‘‘ There are one or two of her old friends left there, she 
finds. She hasn’t seen them for fourteen or fifteen years, 
but she wrote to one the other day, and had a very kind 
reply. She’s the widow of an artist friend of papa’s, and 
she keeps a milliner’s shop, and is rather a swell in her 
way, I believe ” 

Indeed ! I have heard of such things, but they are 
quite out of the line of life of mere country gentle people ! ” 
Mrs. Broadhurst spoke a little scornfully. She was 
intensely conservative — not to say narrow — though she 
had “ taken up ” the horsebreeder’s niece. Few things 
annoyed her more than to hear of people who were in 
rank above her by birth ‘Agoing into trade.” If the 


THAT OTHER WOMAH 


153 


offender was a countess or even the daughter of a countess 
Mrs. Broadhurst (being good-hearted !) condoned this 
offence ! But that an artistes widow should descend to 
bonnet building, and then dare to get herself spoken of as 
a swell, was unpardonable in the local lady’s eyes. 

However she had no desire to either snub or dishearten 
the girl who was going to taste the flavor of London life 
for the first time in her grown-up experience. So she 
made a few more enquiries in a kindly encouraging way, 
and learnt from Florence that she and her mother were 
going up simply and truly (as far as the girl knew) for a 
little change.” 

The fact that she required it after all these years at 
Eastmoor seemed to flash upon mother quite suddenly,” 
Florence explained. You see all her young married life 
she lived in London, and had plenty of kind and interest- 
ing friends, and was quite a little somebody in their circle 
on account of papa. But down here, though she has 
been very happy with us two, and though Uncle Joe is all 
kindness to us all, she has no outside friends, and she has 
found it dull, the poor dear mother ! ” 

I should have thought the last few months had been 
full of excitement for her. I haven’t a daughter, but if I 
had one, and she had got engaged to a stranger and was 
going to be married directly, I don’t think I should feel 
Mull.*” 

Mrs. Broadhurst spoke as if Florence’s explanation had 
not fully satisfied her. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

HAVE I DONE RIGHT I ” 

Florence Arle had given her explanation of the hurriedly 
projected visit to town in perfect good faith. She had 


154 


THAT OTHER WO MAH 


been glad as a child to have the prospect of such a 
change, and happy as only a girl in love can be at the idea 
of seeing her lover. It did not occur to her to look below 
the surface, or to doubt or question the plan of campaign 
which held out such pleasant possibilities to her. Both her 
reason and her inclination assured her that Mrs. Arle’s 
sudden craving for a break in the colorless monotonous 
routine of her existence at Eastmoor was a natural 
healthy sign of a still lively mind and sound body. The 
girl knew that her mother had heard once or twice from 
Jack ” — she had grown familiar enough to call her lover 
Jack ” in the family circle, though she carefully spoke of 
him as Mr. Phillipps to outsiders invariably. She had 
even seen the contents of one or two of his letters to Mrs. 
Arle, but they were quite of the common-place pre-son-in- 
law order, and contained no suggestions of a kind to 
alarm her or even excite her curiosity. But there were 
other letters of which she knew nothing, and of whose 
arguments and suggestions she was kept in ignorance 
until they reached the lodgings in the Portsdown Road, 
to which Mrs. Arle’s old friend, the artist’s widow, had 
recommended them. 

I shall not be able to meet you at the station, but I 
will call at your lodgings as soon as I can get away from 
business,” Mr. Phillipps had said in his last letter to 
Florence, and though she had been a little disappointed 
at being compelled to dispel that vision of an impatient 
lover awaiting her on the platform, which she had con- 
jured up, she bore her disappointment with resignation. 
Still she felt it a little hard that business should be so 
exacting on such a special occasion as this. For neither 
her mother nor herself were practised travellers, and it 
seemed as if every guard, porter, and cabman whom they 
encounlsered were aware of the fact. If Florence had 
been permitted to marshal their luggage in array, and 
then leave it in charge of her mother while she selected a 


T/fAT OTHER WOMAN, 


155 


cab with a likely-looking horse, things would have been 
more comfortable in the end. But this was not permitted 
without much anxious interference from Mrs. Arle, who 
protested that it was not the thing for a young girl to 
run about a crowded platform alone. 

Florence was too courteous to remind her mother that 
their departure from the crowded platform would be ex- 
pedited more by a self-possessed young woman running 
about and giving clear directions, than by a bewildered 
old lady’s spasmodic attempts to arrest the steps and 
attention of every official who looked as if he might be 
able to recognise her luggage by intuition. However, at 
last they got safely away in a cab of Mrs. Arle’s choosing, 
and though the horse jibbed a little, and was distressingly 
lame, they reached their lodgings in time to have tea by 
daylight. 

The rooms were nearly as nice as report had said they 
were, and Mrs. Arle asked for nothing more for a few 
hours than the consciousness of sitting in what she called 
a real upstairs London drawing room ” again. The out- 
look into the Portsdown Road is not maddeningly lively 
and exhilarating at any time. But the friend who had 
chosen the lodgings had declared that the view from the 
drawing-room window was very pleasant, especially in 
spring.” And very pleasant Mrs. Arle found it, as she 
sat at the window with a new cap on her head, and read 
as much as she could see of the story of the street. 

There’s a party going from next door in a cab, Flo, 
dressed for a dinner, I should say, or perhaps the theatre. 
How one does get behind the fashion to be sure in a place 
like Eastmoor. It’s worth your while to get up and look 
at the way the skirt is put in behind ! Never mind, dear, 
if you’re tired and would rather not move. Dear ! dear ! 
there’s a woman every day as old as I am with nothing on 
her head but her hair and a diamond pin ! Well ! if I 
had thousands a year and could cover myself with dia- 


156 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


monds I’d never make myself so ridiculous. There ! 1 
hear them telling the cabman the Lyceum. I don’t feel a 
bit tired, and would take you to some theatre to-night if 
we were not expecting John. Late business hours he 
keeps, poor fellow ! I thought it was only poor clerks 
who were kept late at their offices, not rich principals. It 
must be seven o’clock, light as it is still. I am longing 
to have a stroll through the lighted streets again.” 

“ Dear mother,” Florence said, rising quickly from the 
sofa on which she had thrown herself, let us go and have 
a stroll through the streets — they will amuse you more 
than sitting here watching strangers drive away in cabs.” 

She leant her arms against the window, wearily, as she 
spoke, and bent her fair head down on them. 

‘‘You’re tired with the journey, Flo, I wouldn’t be so 
selfish as to drag you out for my idle pleasure for the 
world ! Besides, John may come in at any moment, and 
he would think we were very indifferent about seeing him 
if we were not here to receive him.” 

“ He will never think that of me, that’s the worst of it. 
He knows so well that my inclination will always be to 
wait on his pleasure.” 

“ And I’m sure you’ll always be able to follow your in- 
clination — he’ll never interfere with you,” Mrs. Arle said 
with unconscious sarcasm, “ but I’ll tell you what I will 
do. I’ll just pop on my bonnet and walk around that corner 
and have a look at some of the shops, and get a few 
trifles of grocery that we shall want, and you can stay 
here and wait for him.” 

So Florence assenting to this, the considerate mother 
followed out the programme she had proposed, and as the 
shops round the corner proved attractive to the woman 
who seldom saw a shop of any kind more than once in 
twelve months, Florence was left undisturbed for the next 
hour. 

But when the daylight had quite died out of the sky, 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


157 


and the lamps were lighted, a hansom rattled up to the 
door, and in another moment or two Mr. Phillipps came 
in, and Florence had no more time in which to brood over 
real or francied wrongs, disappointments, or sorrows. 

For he was as eager, as happy to see her, as unreasonably 
elated at their reunion, as ready to forget every person 
and thing upon earth save themselves, as any lover of 
whom she had read in old romance. 

You are with me again, that’s enough ! ” he said when 
she attempted to explain why” mamma had not waited 
in for him. Flo, I began to think I should never see 
you again. Let me look in your eyes, and see in them 
that you’re just the same Flo I left? — not more cautious 
or timid or stupid ! but just the same Flo ! ” 

He put his hand under her chin and turned her face up 
to let the lamp-light fall upon it. As he did so, she 
laughed out clearly and merrily. 

“ 1 like that last word ! ” she said. I’m sure men 
often get frightened, after they’ve proposed, about the 
brains of the girls they’ve proposed to. I’ve known a girl 
shiver at the idea of her real ignorances being found out 
after she got engaged to a man who thought her bright 
and clever at the ball or pic-nic at which he had met her. 
But you saw enough of me to find out that I was ‘ just the 
same Flo ’ at home as you thought me at that first ball ! 
Stupid or not. I’m what you thought I was at first ; and 
you like me better than anyone else in the world, don’t 
you. Jack?” 

Like you ! If I didn’t like you ” he paused. He 

had no word at command wherewith to assure her of his 
absolute adoring preference for her over every other 
created being. Awkwardly enough, too, his memory 
fogged him, and his conscience stung him as a vision of 
little Jack, leaping lovingly at him, presented itself. 

What a beastly place this is, what on earth made your 
mother quarter herself here ? ” he grumbled presently. 


THAT OTHER WOMAJSf. 


158 

The fact is, only a portion of him was Florence Arle’s 
ardent lover regardless of surroundings ! The major part 
of him was a selfish, pampered citizen, fully appreciative 
of the worship and renown he enjoyed in the domestic 
sphere at Weyb ridge and Houndell. Though he dreaded 
nothing so much as any revelation of his real life to 
Florence, he was disposed to think her a little bit selfish 
and unreasonable because she did not appreciate and be 
grateful to him for the sacrifices of home refinements and 
luxuries and social consideration which he was perpetually 
making for her. It ought to have struck her ‘‘ as incon- 
gruous,” he felt, that he, the master of that perfectly 
appointed home at Weybridge, and the prospective owner 
of grand old Houndell, should for love of her spend an 
evening in a lodging-house drawing-room ! A room, the 
wall-paper of which was a blow in the eye to him — as, 
indeed, was the ghastly white marble mantelpiece decorated 
with cheap French vases, and the suite of furniture up- 
holstered in green ! When King Cophetua does step 
down, he likes the beggar-maid to be touched to sympathy 
and gratitude by the condescension, very naturally ! Only, 
in this case, he was not recognised as King Cophetua. 

It doesn't much matter what the lodgings are like,” 
she said with happy indifference. ‘‘ When you’re here I 
shan’t think of them, and when you're away I shall be out 
with mother doing the sights of London like the country 
bumpkin I am. I should like to go to some of the 
theatres. Jack. Will you take us ? '’ 

He answered her question with another. 

Do you know why I wanted your mother and you to 
come up, Flo ? ” 

‘‘I didn't know that you ‘wanted' us to come at all. 
Mother told me you had written to her to say you were 
delighted to hear of her plan of taking a holiday.” 

He was walking restlessly about the room, pausing now 
and again by the window to look out. His manner was 
hurried, uncertain, unlike himself. 


THAT OTHER WOMAH. 


159 


The fact is he had come to this meeting through count- 
less little difficulties and obstructions, which had marred 
and broken up a smoothly laid scheme. After having 
spent some time at Houndell to allay suspicion and justify 
the business-call which he had arranged should be made 
upon him this day, his arrangements at the last moment 
had been upset by Violet, W|ho had insisted upon coming 
up to town to see her mother, who was ill. It was in vain 
that he had frowned upon her determination, in vain that 
he had sought the aid of the Twysdens’ opinions to back 
him up. 

If I don^t go to my dear mother now she is ill, I shall 
expect Jack to turn his back upon me when I’m dying,” 
she said, and then the old people sided with her, and 
thought ‘‘John very unreasonable.” 

So Violet travelled up to town with him, rendering him 
uneasy and nervous by her mere presence, which jarred 
with those thoughts of Florence which were making his 
head throb and his blood leap in his veins. True, Violet 
had said good-bye to him at the railway station, and had 
been driven straight on to that little home on the other 
side of the Regent’s Park, where Mr. and Mrs. Grove 
were living in a state of precariously genteel poverty. 
But the fact of her being up in town at all worried him, 
and made him dread the idea of going outside the door 
with Florence. He felt that Violet might meet them at 
any corner ; there was no knowing into what parts, busy 
or obscure, “ that mother of hers ” might not encourage 
her to penetrate. And if they were to meet her ! good- 
bye to his hopes of Florence. 

“ I think,” he said, presently, coming back and’ sitting 
down by her side on the sofa, “ it will be better for us to 
defer all theatre-going until after we are married, Flo. 
My crib is a long distance from here, and I shall never be 
able to get here very early, and then I shall be tired and 
disinclined to turn out for the theatre. After we’re 


i6o 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


married it will be different — your patience shall not be 
tried for very long, my darling.” 

‘‘To have you here of an evening will be better than 
any theatre,” she said, and she meant it, for her experience 
of the drama was as limited as was her knowledge of the 
man she loved. Then they had settled it that she was 
never to expect to see him until the evening, but he gave 
her permission to go to every place of amusement to 
which her mother could escort her by day. “ Picture 
galleries and morning concerts, these must be your diver- 
sions while you’re Miss Arle ; as soon as you’re Mrs. 
Phillipps you shall take me where you please.” 

Her face flushed and her heart beat quicker as she 
listened to him. But she was too proudly patient, too 
trusting, too modest, to ask when she was likely to become 
Mrs. Phillipps. So the time passed on until Mrs. Arle 
came home with a lobster and a cream cheese for supper, 
the sight of which when he was pressed hospitably to 
partake of them, made the man who had only just dined 
sumptuously feel sick. He thought of his ordinary dinner- 
table at home, of its glass glittering like crystal and silver 
gleaming black with polish, of the hot-house flowers that 
were always selected with a due regard to delicacy and 
freshness of perfume by Violet herself, and of the efitrees 
at which he would not look if anything even distantly 
resembling them had challenged his appetite within a fort- 
night ! “and this woman asks me to eat her rancid cream 
and unsubdued lobster ! ” he said to himself in savage indig- 
nation against Mrs. Arle for her want of taste and discern- 
ment. It annoyed him to see that Florence allowed 
hunger to overpower his refined distaste for the whole 
supper function. “What had he come to? to what idiotic 
depths had he not descended? when he could constrain 
himself to sit still at ten o’clock at night and see a girl he 
loved make a hearty meal off indigestible uncultivated 
lobster and cream cheese.’’ 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


i6i 


Before he left he had a little whispered colloquy with 
Mrs. Arle, and the result of this was that Florence was told 
they were going to remain three weeks in London, and 
“ after that, well ! we shall see after that ! ” Mrs. Arle said 
oracularly. 

‘‘We shall see Eastmoor again, I suppose, mother? I 
hope Jack will go down with us.” 

“ Perhaps you won’t see Eastmoor quite as soon as you 
think,” said her mother, smiling happily, and with this 
Florence had to be content. 

At the end of three weeks Florence learnt that their 
fifteen days’ residence in the respective parishes in which 
he and she had been lodging had enabled him to procure 
the license for their marriage, which he showed her one 
morning. Mrs. Arle beamed with the joyous consciousness 
of having been in the secret all the time and two days after 
they were married at the church round the corner. Then 
poor Mrs. Arle’s conscience smote her into asking, “ Have 
I done right ? ” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

HE IS jack’s father. 

While Florence Arle’s objections to being married to the 
man she preferred to the rest of the world without the 
sanction of or presence of her father and Uncle Joe were 
being ignored or overruled, Violet — the real wife of poor 
Florence’s hero — was winning her mother back to health 
by the mere fact of her presence. 

It was a very small house in which the Groves were 
spending the winter of their lives. But to Violet it was a 
veritable house of rest. Her father had grown to be 
content and at peace amidst his humble surroundings, so 
there was no cause for fretting on his account. Strong 

6 


THAT OTHER WO MAH. 


162 

coffee and fresh eggs, a liberal supply of the daily papers, 
and “ a little something to do in the garden,’^ kept Mr. 
Grove happy and satisfied during the hours of the after- 
noon. After his luncheon he liked to go and loiter about 
the Zoological Gardens, feeding the bears and finding out 
resemblances to former friends in the monkeys, till it was 
time for him to trot home to the little dinner that awaited 
him punctually at his favorite hour. After dinner, his cosy 
corner, where specials, new novels and an evening edition 
of his pet journal were put ready for him, supplied all his 
desires. 

“I want nothing more, nothing more, my child?” he 
would say to Violet, with an evident desire to be rid of her 
attentions, when she would beg him to tell her “ What 
more she could do for him.” 

You see I’ve got accustomed to spending my evenings 
alone. Your dear mother’s avocations lead her into 
society, and I can assure you, Violet, I ask for nothing 
more than her happiness and peace for myself.” 

He did not say this in an affectedly martyr-like spirit of 
dismal resignation, but quite cheerfully, and as if he meant 
it. So Violet, after one or two efforts to bear him company, 
felt herself free to go up to her mother’s sick room and 
lighten the burden of inaction and idleness to that bright- 
hearted but now sorely suffering lady. 

It was a “mere nothing” which had broken down Mrs. 
Grove, one of those “mere nothings ” which are very apt 
to trip up and overthrow the energetic and unselfish ones 
of the world. She had gone on travelling long distances 
by day and giving her “ musical and dramatic entertain- 
ment” in draughty “institutes” and badly-ventilated 
country-town guildhalls for some weeks after a feverish 
cold had taken possession of and weakened her. Then 
low fever and ague had assailed and conquered her, and 
forced her high spirit to bend to the inexorable, inevitable, 
and indomitable will, and to submit itself to the weakness 
of her body. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


163 


^ut now the worst was over, and she had her daughter 
with her, the daughter who by suffering and sad experience 
had grown to be almost more like a sister in sympathy and 
understanding than a child. It was pathetic to both the 
mother and daughter that Violet should experience this 
profound feeling of rest and respite in the humble little 
home which was all her parents had to offer her in 
exchange for the splendid one provided for her by her 
husband. Pathetic but very pleasant. If she could only 
have had little Jack with her, Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden 
would have been well contented to remain for the rest of 
her life under the shadow of this roof-tree where all things 
were exactly what they seemed. The absence of luxury 
and dainty food and surroundings was amply compensated 
for by the presence of love and the freedom in the atmos- 
phere from all that savored of deception. There was 
clearly nothing to be found out” by anyone about any- 
thing in this humble little Arcadia. Violet was quite 
content to sit down and rest and enjoy the repose, and 
forget all that was inexplicable in her married life. The 
time would soon come, she knew, when she would have to 
go back to her duties and her difficulties as Mrs. Phillipps- 
Twysden. But till that time came she was wise in making 
the most of the balmy air of peace and love which was 
enveloping her, and unconsciously healing and soothing 
her wounded heart and weary soul. 

It was such a very little household that the task of 
nursing Mrs. Grove devolved nearly entirely upon the 
daughter, who was only too glad to take up the task and 
fulfil it. Violet did nothing else beyond writing daily to 
little Jack and going out for a short walk for health’s sake 
in the unattractive suburb in which her father and mother 
lived. Her husband need have had no fear of meeting her 
in any one of the fashionable streets or resorts in which he 
had been accustomed to see her. That which she had 
come up to do, namely, nurse and attend to her mother, 


164 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


she did thoroughly. But this Mr. Phillipps-Twysden did 
not know, for communications between them were now 
restricted to those of a purely business character. And so 
Mr. Phillipps-Twysden went warily in these days, and 
avoided every place in which he thought he might possibly 
cross the path of his wife. 

At last, however, there came a day when Mrs. Grove 
was sufficiently recovered to be taken out for a drive. 
She longed to look at green leaves and flowers, bees, and 
her well-dressed fellow creatures again. So Violet ordered 
the coachman to take them round the Park and up to Ken- 
sington Gardens. Mrs. Grove could have seen just as 
many green leaves and flowers in the Regent’s Park, but 
this would not suffice her. She yearned for a sight of the 
well-dressed fellow creatures, too. Therefore they came 
west in search of the spectacle, along by St. John’s Wood 
and the canal, and so into the Park. 

By-and-bye they were homeward bound again. It was 
still early in the day, between twelve and one, for Violet’s 
faith in the beneficial influences of the morning sun and 
air was large. The driver of the little hired brougham 
took a short cut which led them past a church near the 
Portsdown Road, and Violet, looking out idly, saw a 
gentleman and lady come out and pause on the steps 
while a carriage drew up closer for them to get in. ‘‘ It 
looks like a little quiet wedding — the bride evidently mar- 
ried in her travelling dress,” she was saying, when she 
caught sight of the bridegroom’s face, and started as if she 
been stung. 

As she leant back pale and shaking, her mother began 
to question and surmise nervously, and Violet struggled 
into composure and an erect position again, under the 
awful consciousness that if she betrayed him now, her base 
husband would be openly dishonored. He was little Jack’s 
father still ! Her boy should never know to what a 
scoundrel he owed his being if she could keep that 
knowledge from him. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


l6s 

‘‘ It is nothing, mother dear,” she muttered, leaning 
back and closing her eyes, and striving to turn all her 
mother’s attention on herself. The thought of my own 
wedding-day came over me, that is all. The poor creature 
who has just been married looked as happy as I did on 
my wedding-day, and I felt sorry for her when the awaken- 
ing comes.” 

My dear Violet, perhaps she has made a wise choice,” 
Mrs. Grove said briskly. Then conscious that her words 
implied condemnation of her daughter’s choice, she added. 

After all, dear, there are many wives in the world who 
would look upon yours as a happy lot in comparison with 
their own. You are not a childless wife, and your hus- 
band, if he is not as devoted to you as he ought to be, has 
not left you for another woman. His ‘ business ’ and his 
billiards are your only rivals. There is a good deal of 
solid prosaic comfort in that.” 

Then Mrs. Grove went on to quote painful instances of 
girls whom she had known who were married to men who 
drank and disgraced and impoverished their wives and 
children ; and others to whom their husbands were notori- 
ously and insultingly unfaithful. And Violet listened 
quietly, bearing the while with the knowledge she had that 
her husband was viler than any of those men whom her 
mother was so strongly condemning. But ‘‘for Jack’s 
sake, for little Jack’s sake,” she was praying to be given 
the grand strength to endure in silence, to spare him 
exposure, disgrace, punishment and destruction. 

Right or wrong, this was the line she told herself she 
would adopt and follow to the end. He should cease to 
be her husband in everything but name from this day, but 
in name he should still be held to be worthy of being little 
Jack’s father. For their boy’s sake she would make it appear 
to all whom it concerned that she had grown cold to her hus- 
band, and that the separation, upon which she would insist 
was due to her fault, her temper ! It did not occur to her 


i66 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


till she got home and thought about her hideous wrongs 
and his horrible sin, in the hours of the night, that she had 
neglected her duty — now, more, that she had connived at 
and been accessory to the even more hideous wrong which 
he had done to that poor girl who believed herself to have 
been made his wife that morning ! It came to Violet now 
in a whirlwind of remorse and self-reproach, to feel that she 
had let a sister slip into destruction, when her hand could 
have saved her. But having once set her feet on this evil 
path of silence and concealment it behoved her to go on 
in it unfalteringly. Phillipps-Twysden’s wretched second 
victim should never know through her (Violet) that she, 
the wretched second victim, was not his wife. ‘‘ She will 
be innocent of all sin while she is ignorant of it, and I will 
never be the one to enlighten her ignorance, poor creature,” 
she promised herself. And then she went over the whole 
subject again, feverishly, and tried to string some words 
together that she should say to him when he came back 
to Houndell and to her. 

For that he would come back she felt sure, come back 
with a lie on his lips. How would he look when she told 
him she knew about his perfidy ? How would he look ? 
She could not bear to picture his face when she denounced 
him, for he was Jack’s father, and she had loved him — till 
now ! 


CHAPTER XXHI. 

NEARLY SAVED. 

As soon as the deed was accomplished, and Mrs. Arle had 
allowed her daughter to be married without the knowledge 
of her father and uncle, without the faintest beat of the 
matrimonial drum, the poor lady felt very much alarmed 
at what she had done. Florence herself had opposed the 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


167 


secrecy and suddenness of the marriage. But then Flor- 
ence was a girl in love, and her opposition was soon over- 
come by the hot arguments of her lover, and the entreaties 
of her mother. ‘‘ Your father and Uncle Joe will be 
pleased enough when it’s over — that it’s been done without 
any fuss or expense. And when you go down to East- 
moor a happy young wife, with your handsome husband 
by your side, they’ll both be as proud as possible,” Mrs. 
Arle prophesied cheerily. 

“ I don’t think they’ll like it,” Florence protested, but 
for all her protests she allowed herself to be over-per- 
suaded into doing what she felt to be a foolish thing. 

I hate the touch of romance about it, you must know, 
Jack,” she told him when he thanked her lor her tardy 
consent. I didn’t want any more fuss made about it than 
will be made now, but I should have liked to have gone to 
you from my father’s home, and I should like to have 
heard Uncle Joe say ‘ God bless you, Flo,’ on my wedding- 
day.” 

I must confess,” he said, ‘‘ that the sound of Uncle 
Joe’s voice rasps my nerves, so I don’t pine to hear it on 
my wedding-day. What I do pine for is to have you, you 
only, you absolutely to myself, away from everyone who 
can try to separate us.” 

No one can ever do that. Jack,” she said so confident- 
ly that he felt almost sorry for her for a moment. The 
next moment he felt sorry for himself. If that confidence 
in him should ever be shaken he would be desolate indeed, 
for he would have no one to turn to, nowhere to hide his 
head. She would never bear a wrong silently ; all the 
world will know that I’m a scoundrel the day Florence 
knows it, he told himself. But he did not love her the less for 
feeling this. He only longed the more to keep her con- 
fidence unshaken, and so keep his own comfort and 
happiness intact. 

It would be easy enough to lead the dual life, and lead 


i68 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


it respectably in the eyes of the world, he had told himself 
before he went through the marriage ceremony in that hole- 
and-corner fashion with Florence. Mrs. Arle would go 
home, and for her own sake make the story run smoothly, 
run so smoothly that there should be but little bother 
about it in the neighborhood. Moreover, after all, who 
was there who would either dare or care to talk about it 
around the bride^s old home ? Mrs. Broadhurst, the vicar 
and his wife, and a few grooms and servants. Why, these 
good people might talk till the crash of doom and nothing 
could come of their wordiness. Their accents would be 
caught up by the winds from Dartmoor and purified long 
before they reached any of those centres of life in which 
he really was a personality. 

He told himself these comforting things vaguely before 
he had carried his point, and persuaded Florence that it 
was well they should marry hurriedly and privately. But 
as soon as Florence yielded to his persuasive eloquence 
and to the arguments which were endorsed by her own 
mother, he began to feel that human judgment is likely to 
err, and that his judgment had been essentially human. 
A thousand little contemptible difficulties and hindrances 
cropped up as soon as the wedding was over, which he had 
never so much as thought of before the commission of the 
crime. A thousand pitfalls yawned before the feet which 
were accustomed to tread where they pleased unfalteringly. 
A thousand fears irritated him into saying or doing some- 
thing which made his conduct appear crude and unrea- 
sonable in Florence’s eyes. A thousand little circumstances 
which he was continually forgetting either cropped up or 
caused themselves to be remembered in a way that threa- 
tened him with exposure every five minutes ! And more 
than a thousand little fears befel him. 

To begin with, though Florence had been married in her 
travelling dress, expediency had decreed that she should go 
back to the lodgings after the marriage ceremony and wait 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


169 


there till it was time to catch the train which was to bear 
them to the eastern county in which the honeymoon was 
to be passed. At these lodgings they found awaiting them 
unsuspiciously that old friend of Mrs. Arlc’s, who had 
developed from an artist’s poverty-stricken widow into a 
wealthy fashionable milliner. 

She was a large successful-looking blonde woman, with 
a bright easy manner, and a face and figure that readily 
lent themselves to the beneficent influences of dress. The 
germs of innumerable good qualities had doubtless been in 
her the old poverty-stricken days. But they had not been so 
apparent in her then as now. Therefore Mrs. Arle felt it 
deeply when her distinguished son-in-law gave vent to an 
utterance of exasperation on being introduced effusively to 

my old friend Mrs. Raymont, whom everybody knows 
as Madame Claire.” If anything can be forgiven to Mr. 
Phillipps, this momentary exasperation may be endured, 
for in the lady who was greeting his sweet young wife” 
so sweetly, he recognised the court milliner to whom Violet 
always applied for her smartest hats and bonnets, tea- 
gowns, and jackets. 

“ I shall take your mother out of these dismal lodgings, 
and make her come and stay with me now,” Mrs. Raymont 
was saying cordially to Florence. If T can keep her till 
you come back from the honeymoon I will, you may be 
sure of that. Where are you going to live — or haven’t 
you settled yet ? ” she added, turning abruptly to the bridge- 
groom. 

“ Not in town at all,” he answered curtly, and then he 
whispered a hurried entreaty to Florence to make haste 
and get away, not to stay and chatter with this professional 
gossip. 

‘‘ JVot in town ! ” echoed Mrs. Raymont, professing des- 
pair and speaking cheerfully in spite of the profession. 
“ Oh I dear. I’m sorry for that, because 1 might help to 
make life a little pleasanter for Mrs. Phillipps if she lived 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


170 

in town. I know so many people, and there is always so 
much going on in my set ” 

She pulled up suddenly, seeing that she was outraging 
some feeling in Mr. Phillipps of which she was not 
cognisant. He was regarding her with an expression of 
malignant anger that was incomprehensible to the gay 
good-hearted lady. It would not have been so incompre- 
hensible perhaps had she been aware that he had that very 
morning drawn a cheque for a large amount in payment 
of her bill for Violet’s last quarter’s hats and clothes. That 
she should pocket the money he paid her for his legal wife 
with one hand, and hold out the other in patronising friend- 
ship to Florence, struck him as being hideously incon- 
gruous. 

Up to this hour he had rather liked Mrs. Arle as a plea- 
santly credulous, weak, worthy old thing, but now suddenly 
this imagination developed her into an obstinate exas- 
perating old hindrance. He felt if she did not betake her- 
self without delay to her home in the safe and remote 
country that she would become inimical and dangerous 
to him. Her friendship with this woman, this Mrs. Ray- 
mont, was a cruel surprise to spring upon him — an unjust, 
underhand, despicable trick to have played him, in fact a 
trick that none but a mother-in-law would have de- 
meaned herself by playing. 

These and sundry other reflections chased each other 
through the wretched man’s brain as he waited alone, 
while Mrs. Arle and Mrs. Raymont were having a few last 
words upstairs with his wife. 

His wife ! Now that he had done the wicked deed 
which he had planned and carried out with such cold- 
blooded deliberation, his brain reeled and he faltered in 
his part as the contemplation of it forced itself upon him. 
His wife ! They and she, too, poor girl, believed her to 
be that, and were happy in that belief, crediting him as 
they did with several noble and exalted qualities. But 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


171 

how would it be if they found him out ? When they found 
him out, rather, for they were’ sure to do that in time — 
such wickedness as his could not remain undiscovered for 
ever. And when that inevitable fatal discovery was made, 
what would little Jack think of his father ? 

This thought bore down upon him with such crushing 
force that he became oblivious of what were his present 
apparent duties. His one active sensation was that he must 
get out of this danger which was menacing his relation with 
his son. One ray of better feeling illumined his guilty mind 
It was that it would be better for Florence to think him 
heartless or a madman than that he should do her the irre- 
parable wrong of taking her away from her mother’s 
protection into what would be a life of degradation and 
misery. The impulse of the moment compelled him to a 
course of action that looked cowardly, but under the 
circumstances it was the least contemptible thing he could 
do. He picked up his hat and gloves and was quietly 
slipping out of the room intending to leave the house, 
when the sight of Florence flying downstairs to rejoin 
him arrested his surreptitious exit. 

The good intention was defeated. The die was cast, 
and for ill and woe his fate and hers were inextricably 
mixed. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

VIOLET ACCEPTS AN INVITATION. 

When one is firmly convinced that a thing is impossible 
the evidence of one’s senses to the contrary is as a rule 
disregarded. At any rate this was the case with Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden. She had every reason to think her 
husband unkind, neglectful, and at times tyrannical. But 
she believed it to be ‘‘impossible ” that Jack’s father could 
be calculatingly criminal. Accordingly, long before she 


172 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


met him again, and received a semi-explanation from him 
of the reason of his appearance at a church door with a 
pretty young woman, Violet had persuaded herself that 
there “ was nothing” in the incident. The ladies were 
country friends, probably, bent on sight seeing. Though, 
why they should have selected that church which had no 
special architectural features to recommend it, she could 
not understand. 

Nor could she remember exactly where the church was ! 
She had looked out of the carriage, seen a building that 
she recognised as a church without looking at it, for all 
her perceptive faculties were occupied by the effort to 
grasp the fact that it was her husband coming out on the 
steps by the side of a pretty young woman. She now 
recollected that there had been nothing in the appearance 
of the pair to lead her to the erroneous conclusion to 
which she had jumped in her hot illiberal haste. After all 
she had only given them a momentary glance, for she had 
been afraid that her mother would look in the same direc- 
tion and detect what Violet fancied was the criminal climax 
of her husband’s evil doings. So in her nervous haste she 
had been stupidly unjust, she told herself, after a long 
argument with herself and her intuitive fears and doubts. 

Still she thought she would either write to him or go to 
him and tell him the truth ; tell him what she had seen, 
and what she had feared and fancied. After harboring 
such a horrible suspicion against him even for a moment 
it was due to him that she should make her confession and 
humiliate herself, and ask him to pardon her for having 
so grossly construed his innocent action. She was one of 
those women who can do nothing by halves with caution. 
As in her anger, while the suspicion that he was foully 
false had been a conviction, as then she had been impla- 
cable, so now that she had crushed the conviction was she 
humbled into generous penitence. 

If only I could see him at once she kept on saying to 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


173 


herself in a glow of renewed good feeling towards him, I 
could say so many things that I can never write.’* 

But there was a difficulty about seeing him either at 
once or for some time to come. She found when she did 
make her way to his house of business in the city, the 
clerks did not know her by sight and when she gave them 
to understand that she was their chiefs wife they looked a 
little surprised, or a little amazed. She could hardly tell 
which, but that they were one or the other she was 
certain. 

He had been called away to Paris by a telegram the 
day before, she was told at last, but he was expected 
back in a day or two,” one of the seniors added, and 
Violet strove to look dignified under her disappointment, 
and replied with a light air of indifference, which was 
palpably assumed, that she “ should probably find a letter 
from him awaiting her at home.” 

Then she went on to say rather timidly that she was 
behindhand with her news on account of having been 
absent from home nursing her mother. 

As soon as she had said this, she realized that she had 
made a mistake in having volunteered any explanation of 
her ignorance of her husband’s whereabouts and doings. 

But the situation was a trying one. No wonder that 
she stumbled in striving to pass through it. 

She got herself out of the office and into the street 
presently, and walked hastily along, not caring or heed- 
ing in which direction she was going. She had wrought 
herself up to such a pitch of excited penitential feeling on 
account of her supposed misjudgment of her husband, 
that she was now experiencing the reactionary chill and 
depression, physically as well as mentally. All anger 
against him, all suspicion of his worst offence, had been 
blotted out of her mind before she started on her pardon- 
seeking mission. Now that she had failed to find him, it 
seemed to her that Providence was aggrieved with her, 


174 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


and was punishing her for the disloyal doubt which she 
had permitted to obscure her mind. At least she would 
not act in opposition to what she knew were his wishes 
any longer. She would go home to Houndell and little 
Jack the very next day, and trust to her mother’s loving 
ins.tincts for forgiveness for her apparently unreasonably 
abrupt departure. 

Her heart lightened a little and her eyes began to take 
note of her surroundings when she had come to this 
conclusion. She had walked hastily through Fleet Street 
and the Strand without observing anything. Now she 
found herself in Pall Mall, with the sun shining brightly, 
with carriages passing and repassing her full of well- 
dressed women. Suddenly it came upon her that she was 
not costumed with her usual care. In her ecstasy of 
emotional repentance for the fancied wrong she had done 
her husband, she had gone out to seek him dressed in the 
plain black cashmere which had done duty through the 
long days of waiting and watching, serving and nursing in 
her mother’s sick room. All at once she grew conscious 
that the dress looked creased and rusty in the bright 
summer sunshine. No wonder her husband’s clerks had 
looked doubtfully at her. There was a country air about 
the architecture of her bonnet, too, and a distinct sugges- 
tion of last year about the cut of her mantle. 

“ I must be looking terribly dowdy,” she thought, 
smilling the smile of one who can remedy that appalling 
feminine defect at any given moment. Then she went on 
trying to find good in the evil, telling herself that as John 
was so fastidious about a woman’s dress and appearance, 
it had been all for the best that she had not found him and 
presented her unsatisfactorily appointed self before him.” 
And then she remembered that she had no perfectly 
reasonable gowns and mantles up in town with her. It 
had been bright, keen spring weather when she left 
Houndell, and now summer had blazed out with old- 
fashioned fervor and force and unexpectedness. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


175 

Naturally the discovery of her deficiencies was followed 
at once by the desire to supply them. 

There was no one who could do this better than Madame 
Claire. 

The handsome prosperous artistic milliner who dressed 
herself and other people so well was on the point of leaving 
her business for the day when Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden 
went in. The artist’s widow was ceasing from her pleasant 
labors earlier than usual out of kind consideration for an 
old friend, a timid-looking little middle-aged countrified 
lady, who tried to keep in the background and unnoticed, 
while Madame Claire gave a few minutes to one of her 
favorite clients. 

If it had been anyone but Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden I 
should have gone and left her to my forewoman,” Madame 
Claire said, half in greeting to Violet, half in explanation 
to the timid-looking lady whom she was about to treat to 
the dazzling delights of a drive in the park in a crowd not 
one of whom had a personality for easily-pleased Mrs. 
Arle. 

It did not take long to give and take Mrs. Phillipps- 
Twysden’s orders. But Violet and Madame Claire were 
old friends, and though the friendship had fluctuated 
since Violet’s marriage it had never died out. From Mrs. 
Grove Madame Claire had learnt enough of the character 
of the former lady’s son-in-law to understand pretty clearly 
why Violet Phillipps-Twysden was not quite what Violet 
Grove had been. If the kind-hearted woman had ever 
felt wounded or sore at what resembled a falling away 
from the old familiar intimacy on Violet’s part, she quickly 
exorcised the unjust feeling by reminding herself that 
Violet’s father and mother suffered more from Mr. Phil- 
lipps-Twysden’s unconventional arbitrariness than she 
could ever suffer. So now, when Violet appeared with 
apparently her time and her manner at her own free dis- 
posal, Madame Claire relapsed at once into the Mrs. 
Raymont of social life and welcomed her warmly. 


176 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


‘‘Just for half an hour/’ she whispered apologetically to 
her old country friend, Mrs. Arle. “ I haven’t seen her 
for several months, and I knew her when she was a girl, 
and made her first ball dress ; we must have a cup of tea 
and a little gossip, and then you shall have your drive, my 
dear — stay till the park is empty if you like.” 

So Mrs. Arle assenting — as she always would assent to 
any plan that was proposed to her — and Violet gladly 
accepting the invitation, they all three went back into a 
room where seats that were triumphs of cosy comfort 
invited them to repose, and fragrant tea disposed them to 
chatter. 

There was of course a good deal said at first about 
gowns and bonnets, but in the discussion on the relative 
merits of the Empire, Directoire, and tailor-made styles, 
the elderly country lady was quite unable to bear a part. 
The other two being too good-natured as well as too 
courteous to exclude her or sail away from her, tacked 
gracefully and came alongside of her, as it were, inviting 
her to fall in and consort with them easily. 

“ Mrs. Arle has been up in town on pleasant business — 
she has been marrying a daughter,” Mrs. Raymont said 
cheerily ; whereupon Violet expressed cordially civil inter- 
est in the recent affair, which led Mrs. Arle into a confi- 
dential discourse on the subject of the suddenness of the 
wedding. 

“You must understand,” she explained, as earnestly as 
if this stranger must of necessity be as much wrought upon 
by the subject as she was herself, “you must understand 
that there was not the slightest objection to Mr. Phillipps 
on our part, not the very slightest ; but we are very pecu- 
liarly situated, as I have been telling Mrs. Raymont, and 
my brother, with whom we live, though he is one of the 
best of men and kindest of brothers, is a little bit 
crotchetty.” 

Violet smiled with such sympathetic grace that Mrs. 
Arle went on even more confidentially — 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


177 


I ought to be a well-satisfied mother — and indeed I am, 
for my dear girl has married a good steady man, who has 
come to years of discretion without being elderly. I have 
always been afraid, as she mixed a good deal with a wild 
rackety set down in the country, that she would marry 
one of the horsey, fast young men she has been in the 
habit of meeting in the hunting-field, and I really think if 
she had done that it would have broken my heart. But 
she has made a wiser choice, and married the man I would 
have chosen for her if Fd had the pick of all the men I’ve 
ever known.” 

Violet thought of the antipathy which existed between 
her husband and her mother, as she said with genuine 
feeling : 

How happy your regard for her husband must make 
your daughter. There must always be a sense of incom- 
pleteness in a woman’s life if there is coolness or dislike 
between her husband and her mother. Your daughter 
has been brought up in the country, you say? Will she 
lead a London life now ? ” 

“ Well, I hardly know yet,” Mrs. Arle said, throwing 
herself into the discussion of the subject delightedly. It 
was almost settled when they were first engaged that she 
should take a house near Eastmoor, so as to be near us 
still. But, as my brother pointed out to me, that would 
involve such frequent absences from home for Mr. Phil- 
lipps, who would, of course, have to come up to town to 
see to his business, that the plan was given up, and now I 
believe they’ll take a house in London. Florence won’t 
care much where it is though,” the mother went on with a 
contented smile, she’ll have hit?i with her, and that’s the 
best of marrying for love. One place is the same as an- 
other if you’re only happy with the man you marry.” 

I don’t know about that,” Mrs. Raymont objected 
merrily. Even with the man I loved I should prefer 
Belgravia to Ball’s Pond. But Florence is a dear unso- 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


178 

phisticated country girl still, and doesn’t care anything 
about these distinctions of district. The girl has led such 
a picturesque life,” the hearty prosperous milliner went on, 
explaining to Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden. I’ll tell you all 
about it one day, and show her to you, too, when she 
comes back. She’s well worth looking at, I can assure 
you, and if Belgravia is the place selected for her home, 
she will soon be heard of as a beauty, I predict.” 

^^Oh, she’ll always live very quietly — very quietly,” 
Mrs. Arle interposed in some alarm ; she will never bring 
herself to do the things you’ve told me of some of your 
fashionable ladies doing for notoriety — never, never. How- 
ever much Florence may be admired, and even I, as her 
mother, can’t help seeing that she’s very pretty, and has a 
most taking way, she’ll never want to make a show of her 
good looks.” 

Then Mrs. Arle, having mounted a favorite hobby, rode 
it recklessly over a course of which she knew nothing save 
by hearsay, and denounced with more energy than either 
eloquence or elegance, the viciousness of the age in which 
women permitted their photographs to be shown in shop 
windows, and accepted valuable presents from men who 
were not their husbands. 

When Violet rose to take her leave at last she remem- 
bered her intention of going down to Houndell the next 
day. 

‘‘ You must send my things to Houndell. I shall be 
there for the next three months,” she was explaining to 
Mrs. Raymont, when Mrs. Arle struck in cheerfully — 

‘‘Houndell? I know that name in Devonshire, near 
Cornwood.” 

“This is Houndell in Somersetshire,” Violet explained 
sweetly. “ A dear old-world place that is to be my own 
one day — that I’ve got to love dearly as my home already, 
though it doesn’t belong to me yet. Do you live in 
Devonshire ? — you spoke of the country.” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


179 


‘‘ Yes, in Devonshire, and in a pretty wild part too — 
right upon Dartmoor. But it’s a pretty place is Eastmoor 
— wild and remote, but a pretty comfortable old place. 
Perhaps if you come so far west as Plymouth you would 
come out to Eastmoor and see me ? If you are fond of 
horses my brother could show you some beauties.” 

“You are very kind,” Violet was saying. 

She was touched by the unconventional trusting, con- 
fiding cordiality of the invitation, and at the same time 
she was half-amazed as she conjured up a vision of how 
her fastidious conventional husband would look should he 
ever hear of the proposition. 

“ You are very kind,” and then she paused, and Mrs. 
Raymont came to her aid in an unexpected way. 

“See here. Listen. I have a beautiful idea,” she said. 
“When your daughter pays her visit to her old home with 
her handsome husband, I will run down to Houndell and 
persuade Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden to go on with me to 
Plymouth for two or three days, and one day we will go 
out to Eastmoor and see that quaint bit of real life for 
ourselves. Shall we do so ? ” 

She was appealing to Violet and the appeal being backed 
by hospitable words of invitation from Mrs. Arle, Violet 
found herself saying — 

“ I should like it — I should like it more than I can say. 
Eastmoor will be a new experience for me — a perfect 
revelation, I am sure. If Mrs. Raymont will take me. I 
will go with pleasure.” 

“ She’s a sweet creature,” Mrs. Arle said when Violet 
had left them, and at length they were travelling towards 
the park. 

“ What did you say her name was ? ” 

“ Phillipps-Twysden.” 

Mrs. Raymont enunciated the name rapidly, slurred it 
in fact, for at the moment someone she knew rode up to 
speak to her. 


i8o 


THAT OTHER WO MAH. 


Oh, Phillippson.” Mrs. Arle muttered it over to her- 
self. ‘‘A Jewess, I suppose, though I shouldn’t have 
thought so to look at her. Perhaps, though, she’s a 
Christian who’s married a Jew — a Jew who’s not strict; 
that’s it, no doubt. 

Is your friend’s husband of the Jewish persuasion ? ” 
she asked, abruptly, and Mrs. Raymont, who was thinking 
of something else, replied rapidly 

“ I don’t know. Yes, I think, but I’ve never seen him.” 

‘‘The name is Jewish.” 

Mrs. Arle spoke with authority, and Mrs. Raymont, 
who hated a controversy, acquiesced at once. 

“ To be sure it is. I never thought of it though.” 

“ Oh, distinctly Jewish,” Mrs. Arle said with proper 
pride in her discovery. “ Phillippson ! The name struck 
me as Jewish at once.” 

Amidst the crash and din of horses* feet and carriage 
wheels Mrs. Raymont failed to hear a word her friend was 
saying. But it did just as well to smile as to speak, so 
she smiled assentingly. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

SIR LIONEL SAID “ YES.” 

Florence’s honeymoon was a short one. From the 
moment of their marriage she was pained to observe that 
restlessness was the predominant characteristic of her 
husband. He was not impatient or unkind to her, but he 
was both these things to an exasperating degree to every- 
one else who crossed his wishes or his path. 

There was much that was worryingly monotonous to 
her even in the halcyon honeymoon days in the sound of 
the harsh rasping tones of perpetual complaint or denuncia- 
ation which he discharged at everyone whose painful duty 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


i8i 

it was to minister to their wants when they were station- 
ary, or to facilitate their progress when they were travelling. 

Her prophetic Instinct told her that the day would 
come when the sound of his voice would make her ner- 
vous. Not that she would ever be afraid of him, she 
thought, with proud confidence, but she might get to be 
afraid of what other people would think and say about 
what might strike strangers as being unreasonable, un- 
grateful discontent. It galled her to feel that he should 
give his inferiors (she believed the majority of created 
beings to be inferior ’’ to this hero of hers) the oppor- 
tunity of feeling superior when his lapses from self-control 
caused him to exhibit his infirmities of temper. Her 
sight was so quickened by love for him and pride in him 
that she saw waiters grin in derision when he swore at 
them for nothing, though in reality they had not even so 
much as a sad smile on their faces. She detected con- 
tempt in the stolid indifference of station masters and rail- 
way guards. She resented as insolence in fact the 
obtuseness of the general to his fine v/rath, which was 
as nothing to them. And finally she hoped the day was 
far distant when she should have to either apologise for or 
defend him to her own people and her old friend Mrs. 
Broadhurst. 

But through all this honeymoon heavy weather, he 
never wavered in the display of a desperate, absorbing 
love and devotion to her , and she, being a woman, to be 
won by such display, gave him in return the unbounded 
wealth of love and gratitude which was stored up in her 
innocent, faithful young heart. To her he was a man of 
men, infinitely dearer now that he was her husband, than 
he had been in those feverish uncertain days when he had 
been her spasmodically ardent lover. That it would go 
on so for all the years of their lives she never doubted on 
those rare occasions when she did steady herself and look 
ahead. 


i 82 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


The truth is, she had no premonitory pangs about cross- 
ing the dead dull level of middle life — no drear dread of 
the difficulties that might trip either of them up when they 
were going down the hill. For the present her path seemed 
an onward and upward one, watered and glorified by rays 
of such love and tenderness as he told her, and she 
believed — she and she only had ever inspired in him. 

So far so good, one is often tempted to murmur when 
one hears of a young married couple returning undaunted 
and eager for the strife from the harassing honeymoon. 
If the gilt has not been rubbed off the gingerbread during 
that period of probation, then indeed may the bride be 
counted a lucky woman. Florence could not have affirm- 
ed solemnly that none of the gilt had been brushed away \ 
but she was quite prepared to swear that the gingerbread 
which was left was of the sweetest and wholesomest des- 
cription. To be sure he had made her shudder at times 
when those trying hotel and railway people had been so 
annoying. But he had done nothing to shake her happy 
conviction that she was not only his wife, but the queen of 
his soul. 

This happy confidence received a trifling shock very 
shortly after their coming back to London and every-day 
life. He had taken her to a great caravansery of an 
hotel, where she felt quite lost in the huge throng, none of 
whom she knew, and he had given her to understand that 
just for a few days he should be too much engaged with 
his business to attend to any of her enquiries or sugges- 
tions about their future home. 

You can amuse yourself here for a week or two, my 
darling, caffit you ? ” he had asked her when they first 
arrived, tired from a long journey, and she had answered 
confidently that ‘‘ of course she could amuse herself, every- 
thing being new to her, and there being too much for her 
to see of v;hich she had never even dreamt hitherto. 

Besides, Jack,’' she added, while you’re out I can go 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


and see Mrs. Raymont sometimes. She has been so kind 
to dear mother, took her to the theatre and gave her drives 
in the park, and altogether brightened her up and braced 
her nerves before the dear mother went home to break the 
news of our marriage to papa and uncle Joe.’' 

I’d rather you didn’t renew your acquaintance with 
Mrs. Raymont, or Madame Claire, or whatever the 
woman’s name is. I was not very favorably impressed 
vrith her.” 

But, Jack, she has been so kind to mother, and I’ve 
promised to go and call. Mother’s last letter reminded 
me of my promise, and I must keep it ; you may not have 
been favorably impressed with Mrs. Raymont during the 
few minutes you saw her, but that’s not a reason for my 
being rude to her. There is nothing against her, and she 
is a friend of my mother’s.” 

Florence spoke with ease, with perfect good temper and 
frankness, but with primness. The man who loved Violet 
for so many years felt that this woman, though she idolized 
him, v^ould not be his slave. He scowled and looked 
dejected, which hurt her feelings, but did not induce her 
to give in. 

She is just the sort of woman to lead you into extrava- 
gance that I am not prepared to stand.” 

I am not the sort of woman to be led into extrava- 
gances by Mrs. Raymont, or anyone else,” she said cheer- 
fully, but she could not help remembering that he had 
told her mother that she (Florence) was the one extrava- 
gance of his life, and that he should never grudge aught 
he spent in gaining and keeping her. 

You don’t know how insidiously these fashionable 
women lead you unsophisticated ones on.” 

Come, Jack, you haven’t been married long enough to 
preach against your wife’s extravagance yet,” she laughed, 
and he was conscious that his face was glowing painfully 
as she held hers up to be kissed. 


184 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


The fact is ” — he spoke impetuously — I am jealous 
of everyone, even of this woman Claire, coming near you. 
I want to keep you to myself entirely ; I want to live for 
you only and to feel that you live only for me. Can you 
do this, Florence ? ” 

‘‘ No, I can’t any more than you can,” she replied, 
distinctly and with decision. ‘‘ It would be silly of us to 
start by pretending that we wanted to do anything so 
unreal. I have my own family and my friends ; I am not 
going to die to them because I have come to you, though 
you are dearer than any of them, and you can’t have lived 
all these years without having liked a lot of people, though 
of course you’ve never loved anyone as you love me.” 

“ There’s an end of one of my illusions at any rate,” he 
said bitterly. You whom I thought so unworldly and 
unselfish are like the rest of your sex, after all. Before 
marriage you seemed to desire nothing more than my 
society ; with it appears as if you were pining for any 
society but mine.” 

You are unjust, and a little bit morbid. If you don’t 
feel it, and know it, my assurance that you are dearer to 
me now. Jack, than ever you were before wouldn’t con- 
vince you. But it’s the truth. So as I want to go on to 
the end feeling that you are the wisest and kindest as well 
as the nearest and dearest of men — I shall try to act like a 
sensible woman.” 

He had no time for argument just then. Self-interest 
told him that he would do ill in pushing Florence into 
open defiance of any foolish rules selfishness might induce 
him to lay down for her guidance. So after giving a 
grudging consent to her calling on Mrs. Raymont, he 
said : 

If you see her to-day, don’t make any engagement 
with her. I have heavy arrears of correspondence to look 
through at the office ; and I may find that I’m obliged to 
run out of town. In that case, I shouldn’t choose you to 
be going out with Mrs. Raymont, or anyone else.” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 185 

Do let me go to the office and help you through your 
correspondence, Jack. I should love to do that.” 

Not for the world,” he replied harshly. I told that 
interfering old bloke, your uncle, that I meant to keep you, 
and my domestic life with you, entirely apart from my 
public and business one. That is my intention still, and 
you must submit to be guided by me.” 

‘‘ I will, of course, in this matter,” she said thoughtfully, 
and he had to be content with this slight submission ; 
still, she was not disposed to vouchsafe any more. But 
he found himself hating that former experience of hers with 
unbroken and undisciplined colts, which had taught her 
to be so steadily and calmly self-reliant, composed and 
confident. 

She’ll be kittle-cattle to deal with,” he told himself, 
smiling sourly as he went on his way. If she stands up 
in this way against me about a woman for whom she doesn’t 
care a damn, how will it be when her own interests, or the 
interests of someone dearer than herself are at stake?” 
As this thought flashed across his mind he was tempted 
to wish that he had never seen her ; never been tempted 
to sin for her as he had done, to his lasting shame and 
her possible sorrow. He thought of his bonnie little son 
Jack, too, and the wish grew stronger. What if little Jack 
should ever know the truth and learn to hate and despise 
his father ? He found as he anticipated a large and impor- 
tant correspondence awaiting him. But before it is told 
how he acted after reading it, Florence shall be followed 
through the events of the day. 

As soon as she had parted from him, the young wife, 
left to her own devices for the first time since their marriage, 
wiote a long letter jointly to her father and mother. This 
brought her to luncheon time. To lunch alone in the 
hotel was dull, so she started off in search of a confec- 
tioner’s, and fortified herself for the fatigues of the remainder 
of the day with tarts and chocolate, ^he shop windows 


i86 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


amused her for another hour, and then the longing to have 
a woman to speak to about all the lovely things that were 
appealing to her womanly taste seized her, and she made 
her way as fast as she could to Madame Claire. 

The handsome, happy milliner was delighted to welcome 
her, and pleased by the prompt attention shown in calling 
on her at once. Madame Claire was too good-natured to 
allow herself to think that Florence had been driven to her 
so immediately by dulness. On the contrary, she persisted 
in declaring that it was her own strong will-power which 
had brought Mrs. Phillipps to her so soon. 

“ I have three stalls for the Savoy for to-night,’^ she told 
her visitor. “ You and your husband must come with me 
— say yes, and let me send a telegram to Mr. Phillipps, 
saying I shall keep you to dinner, and he must join us.’' 

To this proposal Florence assented cheerfully. Jack 
could not possibly object to her going to the theatre with 
Mrs. Raymont if he were asked to countenance the plan 
and included in the invitation ; and she had a keen desire 
to see the current comic opera at the Savoy. 

Accordingly the telegram was dispatched, and in due 
time the reply to it was received. 

Reluctantly refuse — am obliged to leave town for two 
days — wife must please herself.” 

“ I’m sorry he can’t come, but I am delighted to be able 
to provide you with an evening’s entertaiment in his 
absence,” Mrs. Raymont said blithely, as she tossed the 
telegram to Florence. We’ll find another escort, for I 
can’t waste the stall. Let me think — I mustn’t take anyone 
too attractive, or Mr. Phillipps may be jealous.” 

“ Don’t take anyone who is dull,” Florence said frankly. 
‘‘Jack would never be jealous of me, and I would much 
rather have an attractive man to speak to at the theatre than 
an unattractive one.” 

“We’ll take a turn or two in the park presently; we're 
sure to meet someone I know, and we must trust to luck 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, * 187 

to find that someone disengaged. Your charming presence 
will counter-balance the disadvantages of a short notice 
with most men, my dear.” 

‘‘ My being married will be in the scale with the short 
notice, though, won’t it ? ” Florence asked laughingly. 

She was quite on pleasure bent this day. Her youthful, 
healthy vitality was asserting itself. She couldn’t bring 
herself even to feel sorry that her husband had gone away 
for a day or two without giving her a farewell kiss. Dear 
Jack, he’ll be with me again the day after to-morrow,” she 
told herself re-assuringly, as she prepared for her drive 
with Mrs. Raymont; nieantime she had the prospect of 
the park and the Savoy before her, and she was young, 
and just beginning to find out that she was beautiful. 

They had not been in the park a minute before Mrs. 
Raymont’s greys were pulled up at the command of their 
mistress, while that mistress was bending forward and 
extending her hand graciously to a man who was leisurely 
making his way through the block. 

Sir Lionel ! I’ve not seen you for an age. Oh, you 
know Mrs. Phillipps already, do you? Well, that gives 
me confidence to ask you. Dine with us to-night, and go 
to the Savoy with us. We are unprotected and have a stall 
to spare. Say yes.” 

Sir Lionel looked at the brilliant face which had worn 
such a sad expression when he saw it last — on that memor- 
able occasion of their bending over the anemone bed 
together — and said yes,” enthusiastically. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

‘‘the husbands will clash.” 

Among the many letters which were awaiting Phillipps- 
Twysden was one from Violet, asking him to come to 
Houndell as soon as he could. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


1 88 

‘‘ Mr. Twysden is very ill,” she wrote, his time will be 
short we all feel, and he longs to have you here. More* 
over. Jack wants to see his father badly. You will find 
the little man looking so well and jolly, so unlike the 
delicate, fragile little chap you left nearly a month ago.” 

“ Violet has ceased to care what I do or what becomes 
of me,” he thought bitterly, as he read Violet’s letter. 

She doesn’t even reproach me with my neglect of her and 
the boy during these last weeks. I wish to God I could 
unlive them. As it is, I must fight my battle without aid 
or sympathy ; and what a battle it is to fight ! ” 

A ghastly battle truly, the wretched man’s most severe 
critic must have admitted that, as he throbbed about pal- 
pitating between many plans for an hour or two, and 
finally settled on one that seemed the least dangerous on 
receipt of Madame Claire’s telegram. Much as he disliked 
this idea of Florence’s going to a theatre with the widely 
known Madame Claire, he hailed it almost with relief this 
day, as it would enable him to get away without the fuss 
and trouble of preliminary questioning. 

She can’t get into mischief, or meet anyone she 
oughtn’t to know, just this once,” he thought with regard 
to Florence. And so — the desire to see little Jack being 
strong upon him — he went down to Houndell, starting 
late from Town, and arriving late and unexpectedly at his 
destination. 

While he was steaming along, complacently congratu- 
lating himself on the fact of the odds being heavily against 
the probability of Florence’s making any undesirable 
acquaintance this one evening of his being off guard, that 
young, happy, and perfectly independent and innocent 
lady was doing the very thing he would least have desired 
to see her do, namely, cementing an intimacy with Sir 
Lionel Halford, which was destined to influence the future 
lives of both of them materially. 

It was so pleasant, both to the man and the lady, to 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


189 


meet again, that each showed that pleasure freely, making 
Mrs. Raymont’s little dinner go off pleasantly and easily, 
as little dinners are apt to do when the hostess has invited 
people to partake of it who are thoroughly in harmony 
with each other and herself. 

It was a genuine treat to Florence to meet Sir Lionel 
Halford again. When her heart had been heavy and her 
prospects dubious and under a cloud, he had shown her 
sympathy and kindness in an honest unobtrusive way that 
had won her gratitude, and given him a kindly place in 
her memory. Now that she met him again in the dawn of 
the happy married life which had seemed so far distant on 
the day of that garden party, she welcomed him almost 
like an old friend, and did her utmost to make him under- 
stand that she was glad to see him. 

Really, if I didn’t know better, I should say you were 
flirting with Sir Lionel,” Mrs. Raymont said laughingly, 
when they were putting on their wraps for the theatre. 

‘‘ I shouldn’t have flirted with him even if I hadn't been 
married.” 

Florence told the truth so easily that her hostess, who 
had not been at all averse to a little harmless flirtation in 
her own early married days believed her, and went on 
more gravely : 

don’t know, my dear child. Moreover, he’s the last 
man in the world to descend to a flirtation with any 
woman, married or single. He fell in love years ago with 
a girl who married his friend, and since then he seems to 
have abjured not only matrimony, but love-making. At 
one time people said he was going to marry Lady Susan 
Meadows, but I always said he would be a faithful Johnnie 
to the last to Violet Phillipps-Twysden.” 

Poor fellow ! ” 

Florence looked as compassionate as she felt, so it came 
to pass that the glance which met Sir Lionel’s when he 
came forward to help her into the carriage was the softest 


190 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


and sweetest that he had ever received from a woman^s 
eyes. Fidelity was a quality for which she had the 
greatest regard and esteem. This plain, plump, faithful 
little baronet irresistibly commanded her attention and 
liking from the moment she heard that during all the best 
years of his manhood he had been faithful to the memory 
of a woman who had preferred his friend before him. 

How I should like to know the story,” she thought, 
looking earnestly at the rosy, commonplace face, which 
masked such loyalty and faithfulness. I wonder if he’ll 
ever tell it to me. How Jack would like him. I must get 
them to know one another ; they’d get on so well.” 

My husband will be back in a day or two — will you 
come and see us then ? ” she asked cordially, when he 
enquired where she was living now. 

Then she gave him their address, and he promised to 
call, his heart beating ominously as he did so, with the 
recollection of the vague suspicion which had upset his 
mind when Mr. Phillipps passed him in the vicarage 
drive. 

My husband is such a busy man,” the girl went on 
confidentially. He tells me I must be prepared for his 
being here, there and everywhere excepting at home the 
greater part of his time. He’s a City man, you know; he 
has a big place of some sort in the City, but he says all I 
am to know about it is that he makes his money by it. 
He doesn’t like women to be disturbed and anxious about 
business affairs.” 

‘‘ Have you many friends in Town ? It will be dull for 
you, won’t it, if your husband is away so much ? ” 

I’ve no friends but Mrs. Raymont, so I shall bother 
her very often; but I shan’t be dull. Uncle Joe gave me 
a horse before I married, and I suppose I shall have that 
up soon.” 

Mustn’t ride alone, you know, dear ! ” 

Indeed, Mrs. Raymont, I shall. When Jack can’t ride 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


191 

with me, I shall ride alone. Why, IVe done it all my life, 
and now that Tm ^ a married woman ’ (she laughed proudly) 
there’s less reason than ever why I should have a groom. 
I should always make for the country, you know — the 
Row will never see me unless Jack is with me.” 

Sir Lionel found himself hoping that this dear woman’s 
faith in Jack might never be weakened, or that if ever it 
was, he (Sir Lionel) might never hear of it. I could find 
it in my heart to shoot the fellow if he ever plays fast and 
loose with such a wife as that,” Sir Lionel thought as he 
looked at her with yearning pity (for which he could not 
account) in heart and the most commonplace expression 
in his pale blue eyes. “ I wish he hadn’t reminded me of 
the scoundrel who married poor Violet. It’s against him, 
though I’m a suspicious, mean-spirited ass to think ii.” 

In the course of the evening Florence learnt that a. pro- 
posal had been made that Mrs. Raymont should visit Mrs. 
Arle at Eastmoor. 

It will be like a fairy tale to me to go out on a beauti- 
ful wild moor and look at a lot of beautiful wild colts, and 
probably I shall want to give up bonnet-building for colt 
breaking. I’m not the figure for that any longer, unfortu- 
nately,” the jolly-looking lady went on hilariously. ‘‘ This 
Uncle Joe, of yours, of whom I hear so much, won’t be 
likely to offer me a thousand a year to show off his horses, 
will he? But I shall have Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden with 
me ; perhaps he may be able to make her your substitute ; 
she’s lovely, and a first-rate horsewoman.” 

It was all idle, merry talk, with nothing in it ; and 
Florence was listening to it idly and merrily too, until that 
mention of Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden was made. Then 
something — she supposed it was the natural jealousy of a 
horse-woman who had been called peerless ” in her own 
country — lowered her spirits, and made her flat and tired. 

A first-rate rider in Rotten Row would be very much 
out of it on a half-broken colt on Dartmoor,” she said 
coldly. 


192 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


Then she asked quickly — 

Why should this Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden go to East- 
moor ? She is not an old friend of my mother’s.’’ 

They met at my house and liked each other,” Mrs. 
Raymont explained. ‘‘ Poor Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, 
who has not been allowed free intercourse with her mother 
since she married that respectable brute Phillipps-Twysden, 
she felt her heart go out to your mother, Florence, when 
she heard the dear old thing expatiating on your luck in 
having such a husband, and her happiness in possessing 
such a son-in-law.” 

Did he want to cut her off from her mother ? That 
was brutal, but she shouldn’t have given in,” Florence said 
quickly. 

‘‘ When she gave in she adored him,” Mrs. Raymont 
said drily. 

‘‘ I adore Jack, but I wouldn’t give up my mother or my 
friends to please an idle whim of his,” Florence replied, 
and the same look came into her eyes that was in them 
when colts grew viciously unreasonable under her, and 
she settled in her saddle to her work of government. 

It must be as bad for a man as it is for a horse to be 
treated as if he were something so terrible and so strong 
that he must have his way at any cost to other people.” 

Mrs. Raymont smiled. My dear,” she said, I 
could almost find it in my heart to wish that you had 
married Phillipps-Twysden ; he wouldn’t have had such an 
easy time to practise his domineering tricks if you had 
held the whip while he trotted round the domestic circus.” 

Florence’s brow relaxed, and her lips smiled in unison 
with her eyes. 

I was a goose to say what I did,” she contended, there 
is a difference in our cases. Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden has 
a husband who can be unjust, and a bit cruel it seems. 
Now, I have a husband who couldn’t be either if he tried 
— he’s too true and manly.” 


T//AT OTHER WOMAN. 


193 


When she said this, Sir Lionel was more sorry than ever 
that in a moment of short-sightedness he had allowed 
himself to fancy a resemblance between Violet’s Phillipps- 
Twysden and Florence’s Jack. 

She’s a dear girl, utterly unspoilt and unconventional, 
isn’t she ? ” Mrs. Raymont said to Sir Lionel, as they 
chatted together for a few minutes after depositing Flor- 
ence at her hotel. 

A sweet woman — one of the best and nicest I ever 
met,” he said earnestly. 

At the same time, my dear friend, I wouldn’t call on 
her if I were you. Jack is not what she sees and paints 
him.” 

He nodded his head in assent. 

She will be very much alone ; she feels that already. 
I would like to get some good woman about her — a woman 
like Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden.” 

“ My dear friend, it’s impossible, the husbands would 
clash. I happened to see Florence’s hero on his wedding 
day, and a worse conditioned chap I trust I may never 
meet again. Now I don’t know Mr. Phillipps-Twysden 
by sight, but I know him well by repute, and I should say 
in many things he was the counterpart of Florence’s Jack. 
Let well alone. Sir Lionel ; if you want to do anything 
quixotic, ' introduce your good friend Lady Susan to our 
little Dartmoor wild-flower. Yet what am I saying ? 
They are too far apart in social interests, something would 
have to be powerfully wrenched in order to bring them 
together.” 

I think I’ll try to bring them together without using 
any force that may wrench the order of things out of 
shape. Good-night, Mrs. Raymont ; thank you for a 
happy evening, and for having shown me more of a very 
admirable character — a character that interests me greatly.” 

She was driving off as he spoke, but she used the check- 

7 


194 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


string, put her head out of the window, and called him 
back. 

‘‘ Don’t try to bring Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden and my 
young friend Mrs. Phillipps together ; don’t do it ; the 
husbands will clash. I am sure of it, and you will burn 
your fingers. And — forgive me for being so plain-spoken — 
don’t call on Mrs. Phillipps till I tell you to do so.’’ 


CHAPTER XXVIL 
‘‘do come home early.” 

Mr. Phillipps-Twysden regretted many things bitterly 
as he drove up to the entrance door of Houndell at a late 
hour that night. But, among the many things, the one he 
most bitterly regretted was that he had come at all. 

That Violet would meet him with averted looks and a 
cold manner, even if she did not openly and bitterly re- 
proach him with his neglect of herself and their son, he 
confidently expected. 

And he was conscious that lying explanations would not 
rise readily to his lips as they had done in former days. 
He was so distraught with his double set of domestic 
difficulties already, that he felt himself getting mixed, and 
feared that the apologies he would have to offer Violet 
might in his confusion be worked in a way that was 
meant to suit Florence’s ears and case. 

However, when he entered the house, he felt at once, 
from the air of reverential hush which was over all things, 
that he would not have to combat reproaches. 

Violet met him presently with a tear-blurred face, and 
told him brokenly that he “ was too late,” their good, 
generous old friend, this man who had been like a father 
to him, was dead ; and the grief in Violet’s heart put a 
keener edge on the uncalled-for remorse she had felt for 
having momentarily distrusted her husband. 


TI/A7' OTHER WOMAN. 


195 


She greeted him affectionately, almost tenderly, and took 
him at once to look at their sleeping child. She ordered 
a dainty repast for him, sat by him while he ate it, and 
altogether made him feel quite safe and at ease. 

To his grateful and infinite relief she did not ask him 
any questions about his travels or the cause of them. The 
present sorrow in the house formed the chief topic between 
them. 

Consequently they kept away from all the subjects that 
were marked dangerous in his social and moral chart. 

Old Miss Twysden, broken down by grief, had gone to 
bed, and the doctor and lawyer had both departed, so that 
the Phillipps-Twysdens suffered no interruptions during the 
earlier hours of the renewal of their intercourse. He plied 
Violet freely with questions about the old man’s last illness 
and death, and when he had satisfied himself fully on these 
points he rose up yawning, and asked her to let him have 
a quiet room apart from all household noises, in which 
he might have a chance of sleeping undisturbedly till the 
morning.” 

The same relations were maintained between them for 
the four following days. Then came the funeral and the 
reading of the will. Houndell — contrary to Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden’s expectations — was left to the testator’s sister 
for her life. At her death the whole of this property, 
without any reservation whatever, was left for her sepa- 
rate use, and at her absolute disposal, to Violet Phillipps- 
Twysden, wife of John Phillipps Twysden.” 

He maintained an air of almost stolid calm until the will 
had been read and the company had dispersed. Then he 
went up to Violet, and said in a voice that sounded 
horribly harsh to her : 

You have played your game well — you have sup- 
planted me. From to-day we will live as strangers, if you 
please. I have not decided what shall be done with my 
son.” 

‘‘John !” she cried. 


196 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


She put her hands out feebly to grasp and stay him. 
The monstrosity of his accusation stupefied her faculties 
for a moment. Then the half threat about her boy strung 
her up to speech and action. 

‘‘You shall not take him from me. You are unjust, 
cruel, to speak as if I could or would take anything from 
you. When Houndell is mine, it will be yours, most 
absolutely. I did not know the contents of the will any 
more than you did. Don’t look at me like that, John. 
Take it with me when it comes to me. Let us be happy, 
and cease to distrust one another.” 

“It’s easy for you to say that,” he snarled. “You’re 
the winner ; the spotless Puritan who has posed as an 
injured wife before a weak minded old man for her own 
ends. When Jack is seven years I may claim him, till then 
I’ll trust him with you, but willingly I will never see you 
again ! ” 

“You must be mad, John ! ” 

“ I am quite sane,” he spoke, with a snarling laugh that 
made her tremble 

“You shall not have the boy; you shall not take my 
darling from me when you cast me off so shamefully. 
Think of how I loved you, John ; think of what I have 
borne from you.” 

“ What do you know — I mean what do you think you 
have against me ? ” he interrupted suspiciously. “ The 
very way you word your plea for my toleration is enough 
to drive a man mad. You ask me to think of how you 
have loved me, thereby implying that you do so no longer. 
I know this well enough, but no man likes to be told point 
blank that his wife has ceased to care for him.” 

“You dare not desert me entirely for nothing,” she 
cried with blazing eyes ; “you dare not shirk your duties 
as husband and father because you are tired of me ” 

She paused, for the door opened, and two or three 
servants tumbled into the room. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


197 


Please to come, mam — missus has changed — seems in 
a dead faint,” they said, speaking together. 

She ran up to the poor old lady’s bed-room and tried the 
usual remedies, while a servant rode off at once to Wexton 
for a doctor. But long before he came the faithful old 
sister had gone to rejoin the brother whose sorrows and 
sympathies had been in such sad unison with her own. 

‘‘ And now, madam, you are the mistress and owner of 
Houndell,” Phillipps-Twysden said as he made his wife a 
bow of mocking salutation. Upon my word you have 
played your cards well ; your perfidy passes all understand- 
ing.” 

He would not even go through the form of staying to 
pay the last poor offering of respect to the woman who had 
been like a mother to him, but left Houndell that day. 
Jack went to the station in the carriage that took his 
father away, and until she had her boy safe by her side 
again, poor Violet tortured herself with wild alarm, lest he 
be spirited away from her. Up to the last she kept up 
the pretense before the child of being on good terms with 
his father. It seemed to her too awful a thing that Jack 
should know how callous, cold and unjust a man that 
father was ; so she dressed her face, and hid the loathing 
which her husband’s conduct was beginning to inspire 
in her. 

In some ways Phillipps-Twysden’s visit to Houndell had 
ended better than he had anticipated. 

Violet, now with a good property of her own, would 
cease to look to him for supplies, therefore he would be 
able to provide for that other one who was dependent on 
him. In addition to this source of gratification, he had 
another. Up to the present, at least, Violet had no sus- 
picion of his having violated the law. It would be easy 
sailing henceforth ; he had cut himself asunder from her on 
the reasonable ground of indignation at her having so 
basely superseded him with the old Twysdens. He would 


198 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


forget her and everything connected with her — except 
Jack — and by-and-by, when Jack was a big boy, he would 
take him from her. But it was a far cry to that day, and 
in the meantime he, Phillipps-Twysden, would be happy 
with the wife of his heart — Florence. 

It annoyed him not a little when he got back to town to 
find that Florence had met Sir Lionel Halford. 

‘‘ I happen to know something by hearsay about the 
fellow, and I won’t have you knowing him. He’s an ugly 
little pup, and presumes on his ugliness to worm himself 
into houses and do a great deal of damage. I’ll break his 
head if ever I find him calling on you, and the mere fact of 
her having introduced him to you proves that that Mrs. 
Raymont isn’t a safe companion for you. You must drop 
that intimacy, my darling — drop it as gently as you like, 
but with decision.” 

I can’t do that. Jack. She is a friend of mother’s ; 
she’s a dear, kind woman, and a good one, too, I feel. I 
can’t drop her for nothing.” 

You refuse to obey me, Flo ? ” 

He said it with his sternest, gravest air, but Florence 
was not impressed. 

I refuse, yes. It would be bad to obey you implicitly 
when you give an absurdly unjust order ; it would be like 
giving way to a colt’s objection to passing a steam engine. 
When can I have my gee up ? Mother says Uncle Joe is 
ready to send him any day.” 

Some husbands would refuse to let you have the horse 
till you agreed to their terms about other matters.” 

Then I’m glad you’re not like ‘ some husbands,’ ” she 
said with a happy confidence, and as he did not want to 
be worsted in another argument with her, he agreed that 
she should have the horse up at once. 

Now that Violet was settled for life naturally at Houn- 
dell, there was no reason against his settling in a new 
house in London in any situation in which he was not al- 


THAT OTHER WO MAH. 


199 


ready known. House-hunting was not an occupation that 
commended itself to his taste, so he relegated it to Flo- 
rence, giving her the choice of several districts, and 
practically leaving the question of rent to her discretion. 
To his surprise and unmitigated annoyance, she fixed on a 
house in the Regent’s Park, and nothing that he could say 
in favor of more fashionable localities made her waver in 
her choice. 

I can so easily get gallops out into the country from 
there,” she argued. ‘‘ It’s a lovely country about Edg- 
ware, and I can get into it easily from the Regent’s Park. 
I shall never be a fashionable woman, you see. Jack. Per- 
haps if I were one you wouldn’t like it, for I’d be a thorough- 
paced one if I were one at all, and then you’d find me very 
expensive.” 

‘‘I suppose I must give in to you,” he said; and he 
gave in, but he didn’t like it, and still less did he like the 
way in which Florence took his concessions for granted. 

They had been settled in their new house about a week 
when Florence met him with a very bright face. 

‘‘ Do come home early to-morrow,” she entreated. Mrs. 
Raymont is coming to afternoon tea, and she is going to 
bring a friend with her — a Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

VIOLET MEETS THAT OTHER WOMAN.” 

I WILL take you to see one of the most charming young 
women in the world. She’s unlike anything you or I ever 
met with before. She combines a boy’s boldness with a 
girl’s sweetness, and when you’ve seen her I’ll tell you her 
story, and you will understand how she comes by her 
combination of qualities.” 

Thus spoke Madame Claire to Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden 


200 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


on the occasion of the first visit the latter lady had paid 
(since the death of the Twysdens) to her old friend the 
fashionable milliner. 

“ I have Jack with me, you know,” Violet was beginning, 
when Madame Claire interrupted her. 

Take the boy, of course. I’ll write a line to Florence 
Phillipps and tell her we’ll go to afternoon tea with her to- 
morrow. She’s the most unconventional creature I ever 
met with, and yet there is not a suspicion of fastness or 
indiscretion about her. But when you’ve seen her I’ll tell 
you how she has been brought up, and then you’ll wonder 
that she is not more like a stable-boy than a fascinating 
young British matron.” 

Madame Claire had no more time at her disposal just 
then in which to discuss Florence’s attractive peculiarities, 
and Violet had even less time to listen, as her days in 
London were numbered, and she had many social and 
business claims to settle. She had neither seen nor heard 
from her husband since he had left Houndell that day 
with the threat on his lips that he would never willingly 
see her again. There was no actual separation, but 
virtually she knew that it was a complete one ; and she was 
striving to do her best to order her life admirably without 
him. It was hard on her boy now, and would be bad for 
him by and by. She knew that he would be launched on 
to the sea of life without a helping hand from a father who 
was still alive. Nevertheless, she faced her responsibilities 
bravely, and prayed that the courage and tact might be 
given her to always keep from little Jack the knowledge 
that the father he had been taught to obey and honor as 
well as love, was unworthy both of obedience and honor. 

To very few even of her nearest friends did Violet con- 
fide the story of the parting that was to be for life between 
her husband and herself. There was no need to publish 
it to a number of mere acquaintances by whom she would 
soon be quite forgotten, now that she meant to close her 


T//AT OTHER WOMAN. 


201 


career in London altogether, and live entirely at Houndell. 
Her father and mother knew the truth, and she told it also 
to Lady Susan Meadows. Then her confidences would 
have ended had not Madame Claire asked her outright, 
‘‘ if the role of country gentleman would be one which Mr. 
Phillipps-Twysden would assume with pleasure ? ” 

“ He won’t assume it at all,” said Violet. 

‘‘ But surely, you won’t let that lovely old place ? ” 

‘‘ I shall live there with little Jack,” Violet answered 
steadily. 

Then two tears came into her eyes, and she said 
hastily — ■ 

Don’t ask me about it, mamma will tell you the truth 
about it. No, I will tell you the truth myself. My hus- 
band is tired of me, and he makes the fact of Houndell 
being left to me, instead of him, the excuse for leaving me 
altogether.” 

The pitiful fellow.” 

Don’t call him that to me. I try to think that I am in 
fault some way for not having kept his love ; but I can’t 
accuse myself. I have been very patient, I have borne 
more coldness and neglect and unkindness from him than 
I care to recall. But all this would have been nothing to 
me if he hadn’t tired of me — ^ grown sick to death at the 
sight of me,’ he told me truthfully in his rage when he was 
leaving me. Mine has been a sad, spoilt life, but I must 
make the best of what is left of it for my Jack’s sake.” 

You will be happier now you know the worst — now 
you know that you have lost him altogether — than you 
were while you were dreading it only.” Madame Claire 
spoke with the philosophy of an outsider, and then hastened 
to change the subject by asking Mrs. Phillipps Twysden 
to go and see Florence Phillipps. 

‘‘ I can introduce these two dear young women to one 
another with safety now that there are not two disagree- 
able husbands to diplomatically square and avoid/' the 


202 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


elder lady thought cheerfully. Now that Violet is quite 
independent, she may be a perfect God-send to my other 
charming young friend, whose husband will be a handful 
for her if Pm not mistaken, before long.” 

So she wrote to Florence announcing herself and Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden as imminent at afternoon tea on the 
day following, and Mr. Phillipps was told of the coming 
guests just as he was on the point of starting for his office 
in the morning. 

For a few moments he felt disposed to order Florence 
to accompany him somewhere — anywhere, and remain 
away all day. But he remembered in time that Florence 
was certain not to obey an unreasonable order. Enforc- 
ing his authority was a pleasant pastime with a woman 
who yielded easily as Violet had been wont to do. Flor- 
ence was made of different stuff. She would not yield 
easily, or at all, unless she were told why it would be well 
she should do so. And even if he gave her several 
reasons, and she did not think them good, she would 
regard the laws of politeness and hospitality, accept his 
reasons, and stay at home to receive Mrs. Raymont and 
Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden. 

So he dismissed the idea of taking her with him, since 
he knew she wouldn’t go, from his mind, and went 
moodily from the breakfast-table up to his dressing-room 
to collect his thoughts and plan a few precautionary 
measures against fatal disclosures and discoveries. How 
he cursed the vanity now which had led him to have him- 
self photographed very large, in several positions ; and 
how he almost cursed the loving pride which had made 
Florence frame these photographs strikingly, and place 
them in prominent positions in the various rooms. 

He slunk quietly down to the drawing-room and picked 
up a couple of large portraits of himself on porcelain, and 
a panel photograph, which, draped in Indian silk, rested 
on an easel. These he carried up to his dressing-room 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


203 


and locked away in a drawer. As he was doing it he 
heard Florence come up singing to her bedroom, and his 
brow grew quite clammy as he thought of the steadfast 
look of enquiry she would level at him when she found he 
had hidden his portraits surreptitiously. 

However, he got them safely stowed away under lock 
and key, and opened the door preparing to go downstairs 
with an unconcerned air of swagger, but Florence ran from 
her room and stopped him on the landing, buttoning up 
her jacket as she came. 

Not gone yet. Jack? Wait for me now. I’m going 
up to a florist’s in Baker street. I want to make a flower 
and photograph table, and make the drawing-room alto- 
gether lovely for my visitors this afternoon.” 

All right, don’t hurry yourself ; I’ll go down and look 
at the paper till you’re ready,” he assented eagerly. 

And then he ran down and glanced round the dinings 
room, and discovered two or three more cabinet editions 
of his manly charms in various places of honor on mantel- 
piece and brackets. All these he swooped into a sideboard 
drawer, which he locked. Then he went out and met 
Florence in the hall, and they left the house together 
before she discovered how her rooms had been denuded 
of what she regarded as their chief ornaments. 

You will come home in time to see them, won’t you. 
Jack ? ” she pleaded as she parted with him at the door of 
the florist’s shop. 

Afternoon tea is a thing I shall always avoid unless I 
know you’re going to be alone, Flo.” 

‘‘ Well, as a rule I won’t ask you to come, but I want 
you to see this Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden. I heard Sir 
Lionel Halford and Mrs. Raymont talking about her, and 
from what they said I fancy she is not a very happy 
woman ; in fact I think she has found marriage a failure,” 

Indeed.” He spoke coldly, and held up his stick to 
hail a hansom as he did so. 


204 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


How ghastly pale you are, Jack,” she cried in some 
alarm ; but he sprang into the hansom without answering, 
and she went into the florist’s shop and speedily forget 
him — or at least her momentary anxiety about him — 
among the ferns and flowers. 

The country-bred girl, who had been accustomed to 
pick bushels-full of blooms whenever the fancy seized her 
to do so, gave her orders lavishly. She selected about a 
dozen plants and as many pots of huge maiden-hair ferns 
and then paused to consider the predominant color of her 
rooms before she committed herself to the selection of the 
cut blooms. My drawing-room is rather mixed, dull 
blues and terra-cottas and blue china,” she remarked to the 
person who was attending to her numerous wants. And 
in a minute a suggestive group of flowers loosely and 
exquisitely arrayed were laid before her, tempting her on 
to such expenditure as would have startled her if she had 
been conscious of it. 

Finally she made her choice — white flowers, roses and 
pelargoniums for the m.antelpiece and brackets above it, 
begonias of every shade for an octagon Chippendale table, 
and boquet-d’or roses and ferns for the larger table on 
which stood her collection of photographs. Then finding 
she had not money enough in her purse to pay for them, 
she ordered the bill to be sent home with them, and went 
away rejoicing in the thought of possessing them, and 
unconscious that she had expended about five pounds in 
the fleeting floral decoration of one room. 

She did not miss the photographs until after her 
luncheon, when the flowers arrived and she was about to 
arrange them, and then her distress was great. That they 
had been stolen she had not a moment’s doubt. But who 
could the thief be to take objects of so little value when 
there were so many more precious ones close at hand, and 
equally unguarded ? To be sure, one of the photographs 
was in a silver frame that had cost a guinea, but there were 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


205 

silver goblets on the sideboard worth ten. So robbery for 
gain could not have been the thiefs object. 

Had she a mad person in her household by any chance ? 
A dangerous maniac, who had conceived either a deadly 
hatred or an even more deadly love for her dear Jack. 
The possibility was an awful one, but Florence was cour- 
ageous, and faced it at once. 

Ringing her servants up into her presence, she ques- 
tioned them sharply and clearly, and was relieved to find 
them as much puzzled about the mysterious disappearance 
of the photographs as she was herself, and was also further 
perfectly convinced that neither cook, house, nor parlor- 
maid entertained an unhallowed attachment to her master. 

She sent for a policeman, who came, and after searching 
the house from cellar to garret and finding nothing, shook 
his head and solemnly declared his belief, that there was 
more in it than he liked the looks of” 

He added that he’d keep his eye not only on the house, 
but on some queer characters he had seen some nights 
before in the park. But these wise saws of his failed to 
comfort Florence for the loss ot the photographs, though 
she felt sure Jack would compensate her for them freely by 
giving her as many more. 

It damped her pleasure in receiving her guests that she 
was not able to proudly point out, my husband,” to the 
stranger. Still she made an effort to throw off the feeling 
of annoyance when she recognized in Mrs. Phillipps- 
Twysden and her little son the lovely woman and pretty 
little boy who had attracted her so powerfully in the shop 
in Plymouth “long ago — before I was married,” she ex- 
plained to Violet. 

The house was newly arranged, its decoration and 
furniture were all in excellent taste, though there was not 
the stamp of advanced culture and “high artiness” about 
everything which characterised Violet’s most temporary 
tenting-place. Still, it was a cosy, comfortable, pretty 


2o6 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


room, and the wealth of flowers Florence had bestowed on 
it gave it a touch of poetry and beauty that made it a very 
pleasant place in which to lounge away an hour or two on 
a hot summer’s afternoon. So Mrs. Raymont and Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden sat on contentedly, the latter taking a 
lively interest in the life on the moor among the colts, 
which Florence described with sympathy and animation. 

It was such a fine, jolly life, you know,” she said 
enthusiastically. There was never a day of it that I 
hadn’t my choice of two or three mounts, and the colts 
were all like friends to me. Fve often cried when Uncle 
Joe has sold one of my favorites. I used to say — you 
know what nonsense girls talk — that I’d never marry a 
man who wouldn’t let me live in the country and have a 
lot of horses, and now here I am in London, away from all 
my old friends, and as happy as possible.” 

‘ Such thy power, O love,’ ” Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden 
quoted, looking with kind eyes at the girl who was still in 
love with her husband. And Florence smiled back into 
her visitor’s eyes as she replied. 

Yes, it’s enough for me that I am with Jack, though 
I tell him, and mean it too, that I’m not going to let being 
with him content me for ever and altogether. That would 
be bad for us both, and would make us a selfish isolated 
pair of people in no time. But he has led a very solitary 
kind of life, you know, till he married me. He has had no 
home, and no one to love him, so he has grown, or he 
would have grown misanthropic, if he hadn’t me. Now I 
am going to train him to be sociable. He ought to like 
society, for he can be so charming, can’t he, Mrs. Ray- 
mont ? ” 

‘‘You know I only saw him on his wedding-day. A 
man does not show to much advantage on that interesting 
occasion.” 

“ I hope we may see Mr. Phillipps,’* Violet said politely. 

“ I hope he’ll come home, but that’s doubtful,” Florence 
explained. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


207 


Then she went on to tell them how distressed she had 
been by the disappearance of all the porcelain, panel, and 
cabinet portraits of him that had been adorning her rooms. 

“ The servants must have stolen them,” Mrs. Raymont 
was saying, while Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden listened with 
sympathetic interest to the story of the loss that was so 
distressing to the young wife. 

^^The only one I have left of him now,” said Florence 
pathetically, tugging at a short gold chain she wore round 
her neck, is this miniature, which I had copied from one 
that was taken in Plymouth more than a year ago.” 

She did not detach the chain from her throat, but held 
the locket towards Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, who stooped 
down to look at it. Florence had turned her head aside 
to speak to Mrs. Raymont, so she was mercifully spared 
the sight of the expression of mingled anger and anguish 
which distorted and disfigured Violet’s lovely face for a 
moment or two. 

• Then she looked back with the careless question, 

What do you think of him ? ” on her lips, as Violet 
pushed the locket hurriedly back into her hand, and called 
hoarsely and with an effort to her child : 

Jack, come here.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

FLEEING FROM THOUGHT. 

In the first burning flash of fear and fury with which 
Violet recognised her false husband’s likeness, her brain 
whirled so madly that she lost sight of expediency for an 
instant, and felt only wildly eager to denounce him. But 
the next instant she remembered that this man, though he 
deserved the worst fate that could befall him at her hands, 
was little Jack’s father, and at any cost the knowledge of 
what his father was must be kept from little Jack, 


2o8 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


She had called to her boy unconsciously, and when be 
came running to her in alarm, she had turned from him 
and reached her hand out to take hold of the'back of a 
friendly chair, and surrendered herself to a brief period of 
physical and mental torpor that was not exactly faintness, 
but that rendered her incapable of speech or action for a 
few minutes. During these few minutes, while the others 
busied themselves in getting cold water, eau de Cologne^ 
and in holding strong salts under her nose, she was able 
to force herself to think what it would be best to do in the 
present. 

The future should be considered in time. But the 
‘^present” — she and she only must deal with that. 

His name and character must be saved for my boy’s 
sake.” 

These words seemed to write themselves legibly before 
her eyes, and as she read she recovered her faculties and 
spoke. 

I have been doing a little too much running about in 
the heat, I fancy,” she said, turning her face towards her 
young hostess in explanation, but not raising her eyes. 

She could not bring herself yet to look kindly on the 
one who had superseded her. 

I hope I have not given you much trouble. If you 
will kindly send for a cab ” 

She rose from the chair into which she had subsided 
when the faintness seized her, and was walking towards 
the door before Florence could answer. But the latter, 
though she was surprised and a trifle hurt at the abrupt 
manner of her guest, was not disconcerted. 

Certainly I will send for a cab. Hadn’t you better sit 
and rest till it comes ? The stand is some distance from 
here.” 

“ But my carriage is at the door,” Mrs. Raymont inter- 
posed. “ Surely, dear Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, you will 
let me drive you home ? I should feel wretchedly anxious 
if you went alone ” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


209 


“ I have Jack ; I don’t want anyone else. Please let 
me go,” Violet pleaded piteously. 

Then being conscious that they were exchanging glances 
of amazement at her curiously changed manner, she forced 
herself to look at Florence and say : 

Do forgive me for being rather captious. I have had 
much to try me lately. Life has been very hard ” 

She stopped suddenly as she saw tears of pity spring into 
her rival’s eyes, and held her hand out. 

Don’t cry for me, you can’t help my misery,” she 
murmured, and then, to the confused surprise of both 
Mrs. Raymont and Florence, Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden 
almost ran from the room. 

Now what is it? Tell me, dear,” said Mrs. Raymont 
when, a few minutes after this, she and Violet were driving 
rapidly towards the hotel in which the latter was staying. 

A shock ! I can’t explain it,” Violet replied briefly. 

“ A shock,” Mrs. Raymont repeated meditatively. 

Then she turned her face away as she thought : 

The likeness in the locket reminded her of someone, 
probably. I wonder if that ‘ someone ’ was her precious 
husband ? If he has a twin brother anywhere about in the 
world, I should say that Florence Arle has gone into legal 
slavery to that gentleman.” 

But as she kept these thoughts co herself, Violet was not 
obliged to combat them. 

As soon as Violet reached her temporary quarters, she 
delivered Jack up to the charge of her maid, and herself up 
to the woeful task of facing the horrible truth in all its 
ugly nakedness, and considering how best to treat it ; how 
to deport herself with due regard to her boy’s present 
happiness and future dignity and honor. 

He must never know that his father is a base bad man, 
who has committed a crime for which I could send him 
into penal servitude.” 

This was the deteriuination to which she had come even 


210 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


in those horrible moments of faintness, with Florence’s 
pure kind eyes searching her face and seeming to read her 
secret. From this determination she did not waver for a 
second, but for hours her mind was tossed about and torn 
by a multitude of conflicting resolutions and considera- 
tions of various policies to be pursued towards that other 
woman, who was living in sin, believing herself to be his 
wife. 

It was hard to come to a decision in the matter without 
taking counsel of any one, and Violet dared not take any- 
one into her confidence, therefore the decision must be 
the work of her own unassisted judgment, she felt. At 
one time she thought she would go to her husband and 
tell him she had made the discovery of his shame and sin 
and dishonor, and implore him to break the bonds of 
wickedness which he had forged, and leave that other 
woman. 

Then again, she reflected — that if he did this without 
assigning the true cause of his conduct to his innocent 
victim, it would be simply brutality, which would justify 
that other woman’s friends in hunting him down and 
exposing him. On the other hand, if he made full con- 
fession to that other woman, she would probably expose 
him at once, and so bring shame upon little Jack. No, 
she could not with safety to little Jack adopt either of these 
courses, nor in fact could she adopt any course save that 
of perfect quiescence. 

God helping me, I will never see him again,” she said 
to herself at last, but I will keep his guilty secret from 
the world and from his child.” 

Then she cried passionately over the cruel awakening 
she had had from that dream of love and happiness which 
had begun on that night, long ago, when Sir Lionel Hal- 
ford brought his friend to her coming-out ball. 

There had been an engagement made for her to spend 
the evening with her father and mother ; but now she felt 


TI/AT OTHER WOMAN, 211 

that it would be impossible for her to face them, and 
listen to their kind sympathetic enquiries as to the pros- 
pects of pleasanter relations ever existing again between 
herself and her husband. She must wait for time to com- 
pose her mind on the matter of expedience before she 
could successfully deceive her mother. It was hard 
enough to deceive her most precious little son, who was 
constantly enquiring ‘‘ why papa didn’t come home like he 
used to.” The strain of perpetual deception to be kept 
up for the good of others was beginning to tell on her 
nerves already. She started at shadows, and felt a sense 
of coming evil gliding down upon her every time a spider 
ticked behind a dusty picture, or a simple magpie flew 
athwart her path. 

This nervously excited state of feelings had been her 
portion down at Houndell ever since her inheritance of 
the property had given her husband an excuse for casting 
her off, in an affectedly jealous rage. 

It was no wonder then that now, when a worse thing 
than she had imagined had come to pass, that nervous 
terrors claimed her for their own to a painfully exaggerated 
degree. 

During all the years she had lived in and near London 
it had never happened that she had once been to a theatre 
alone. She had always shrank from doing so ; but this 
night the idea of going to a place where she would be 
alone, unwatched, unquestioned, and perhaps diverted 
from her own sorrowful thoughts, had an infinite charm 
for her. So she gave the order for a stall to be secured 
for her, naming almost the first theatre whose name she 
thought of. And when the time came she went to it, and 
took her seat before the little farce that preceded the piece 
of the evening was finished. The stalls filled rapidly this 
night, and when the curtain rose on the first scene of As 
in a Looking-Glass^ the only ones vacant were the two 
next to that occupied by Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden. 


212 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


Florence had been a little puzzled and a good deal dis- 
tressed by the sudden indisposition and sudden departure 
of the guest whom she had been so glad to welcome and so 
delighted to recognise as the lovely woman who had made 
such an impression upon her long ago at the Plymouth 
photographer's. The change from the undisguised liking 
with which Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden had regarded her at 
first, to the barely concealed aversion which marked Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden's manner after her recovery from her 
brief faintness, struck Florence as being capricious and al- 
most insolently ill-bred. 

‘‘ I never want to see Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden in my 
house again. Jack," she exclaimed when her husband 
came home rather late for dinner that evening. I have 
so much to tell you, I hardly know where to begin. In 
the first place an awful thing has happened ; someone has 

stolen your photographs, every one of them " She 

paused in anger, for he had thrown himself back in his 
chair, and was laughing loudly, artificially " she thought. 

Poor little woman, have I given you a fright," he said 
presently. Then he told her that for a joke,” he had 
hidden his photographs, and affected to be very much 
amused at the anxiety she had undergone. 

I fail to see the joke," she said coldly, when he affected 
to recover himself ; ‘‘ you have caused me to be unjust to 
the servants, for I accused them of carelessness, if not 
worse, and declared they must have left the doors open 
and have allowed thieves to get into the house. I am not 
a child. Jack — the joke was unworthy of you." 

Don’t be cross, my darling," he said, becoming gravely 
penitent in a moment. ‘‘ I won’t make a fool of myself in 
that way again. Forgive me, and let me enjoy my dinner. 
We haven’t much time to spend over it, for I’ve got stalls 

for the Bernard Beere to-night ’’ 

Oh, I’ve wanted to see her in that piece so much," 
she said eagerly, forgetting her indignation at having been 


THAT OTHER WO MAH, 


213 


fooled at the prospect of seeing a play that was the talk 
of the town in those days. But just listen, Jack, I want 
to tell you. Mrs. Raymont brought her friend Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden and a dear little boy — such a duck of 
a chap. I wish you had seen him. And at first Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden was as nice as possible, but the heat 
made her faint or ill or something, and then she got almost 
rudely impatient to be off. She walked off in such a 
hurry that she forgot to say good-bye to me.” 

Indeed ! what upset her ? ” he forced himself to ask. 

‘‘ I don’t know, unless it was the scent of the flowers. 
I have a lot of tuberoses and gardenias on the mantel- 
piece and all about the room. By-the-way, there’s the 
bill, the flowers came to more than I thought they would. 
I meant to have made a floral shrine for your big porce- 
lain portrait, you know. I wanted to show you to my 
visitors. As it was, the only likeness I could find of you 
was the one I have in my locket.” 

His lips felt curiously dry ; he could hardly compel 
them to ask : 

And did you exhibit that to your guests ? ” 

Indeed I did ” 

‘‘ Good God ! ” he ejaculated. 

Then, her look of amazed consternation recalling him 
to himself, he added : 

“ The amount of your flower bill staggered me, my 
darling. Five pounds for a few flowers for your drawing- 
room is rather a large order.” 

Oh, is that all ? you frightened me so.” she said sigh- 
ing with relief. I won’t be so extravagant again.” 

‘‘No wonder your visitor fainted, or whatever it was she 
did,” he went on agitatedly. “ The atmosphere must have 
been sickening. We mustn’t loiter about now, darling. 
I’ll smoke my cigarette while you’re putting on your cloak, 
and we’ll start at once. I don’t want to miss the first 


scene. 


214 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


Nor do I,” she cried, as she ran off to get ready, for- 
getful of Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden’s faintness, and of Jack’s 
startling exclamation when he saw the bill for the flowers. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

SHE IS BLAMELESS.’^ 

When Mr. Phillipps-Twysden found that his wife had 
spared him, even though she must have recognised his 
likeness in the locket which poor Florence had so proudly 
exhibited, his first emotion was one of profound admira- 
tion for the self control displayed by the woman whom he 
had deserted. 

This phase of feeling quickly passed, however, and was 
succeeded by one of nervous apprehension and doubt of 
the integrity of Violet’s motive. Perhaps she was only 
making a feint of resignation and forbearance. Probably 
she only acted in this way to lull suspicion and inveigle 
Florence into further intimacy in order the more effectu- 
ally to overthrow and confound the latter, and irretrievably 
disgrace himself. It would be only a fair and just reprisal 
if she did do this, he admitted to himself. But yet it 
would not be like Violet to act basely, even for the sake 
of justly punishing a gross offender. 

Somewhat comforted by this remembrance of her 
character, he went on to persuade himself that ‘‘her 
beastly pride would be his surest safeguard.” 

“ She will never let the world know that I preferred 
another woman to her, so she’ll wink at the wickedness 
rather than let it be known that I got weary of her.” 

Still, though he argued himself into the belief that Violet 
would endure her wrongs in silence and never expose him 
he dreaded nothing so much as the possibility of meeting 
her face to face. He pictured her face with its expression 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


215 


of sadness and scorn. He framed a hundred speeches for 
her, strong burning words of reproach and wrath together 
and fancied he heard her uttering them. He almost saw 
tlie action with which she would withdraw his little son 
from his contaminating influence. 

And as the picture grew on the canvas of his imagination 
he talked fast and rather incoherently to Florence in a 
vain attempt to blot it out. 

He longed fpr the play that night. He longed for the 
distraction to his sombre, sorrowful, remorseful, thoughts, 
which would be mercifully given him by the powerful 
acting of Mrs. Bernard Beere. Above all he longed for 
his period of easy silence which would be his portion while 
all Florence’s attention was being given to the stage. To 
be able to sit and brood over his sins and the complications 
in which these had involved him, seemed a restful pros- 
pect' now to the unhappy, short-sighted fool, who had 
wrecked three lives that had been launched under the 
fairest auspices. 

“ I will forget, and be happy for to-night at least,” was 
the substance of his thoughts as he jumped out of the 
hansom at the door of the theatre, and helped Florence 
down. 

How pretty — how more than pretty — she looked in the 
long softly-falling cloak of terra-cotta plush, that lent 
itself readily to the lines of her graceful figure. How 
proud he would be to introduce her to any chance 
acquaintance as My wife.” But this he knew he dare 
not do to those who knew him as Phillipps-Twysden. 
Florence must perfoice appear under a cloud. It half- 
maddened him to think that she should be supposed by 
anyone — even by the merest stranger — to be less pure and 
good and honest than she really was. But circumstance 
is a mighty monarch, and Phillipps-Twysden realised that 
in this pitiful case he could not confront circumstance. 

Meanwhile, Violet had forced herself to be interested 


2i6 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


in what was passing before her. The farce played was 
a mere trifle, but it had the merits of being witty 
and of being admirably played. The mere endeavor 
to force herself to be amused was good for her aching, 
bewildered brain. And as the curtain dropped on the 
last scene of the farce she realised with momentary 
pleasure that the pain had ceased, and that a stall imme- 
diately in front of her was being taken by Sir Lionel Hal- 
ford. 

The idea entered her mind that she would allow him to 
remain in ignorance of her proximity. But presently, 
seeing that he turned half round to scan the boxes, she 
touched him on the shoulder, and in an instant he was 
recognising her and expressing his delight at meeting 
her. 

‘‘ If one of those stalls next to you stands vacant much 
longer I shall come and take it,’^ he told her when they 
had exchanged a few sentences. I didn’t know you were 
in town again. I heard from Lady Susan that you meant 
to live entirely at Houndell. Is that so ? and how does 
Twysden like the prospect of being the country squire ? ” 
My husband will not live at Houndell,” Violet 
began. 

Then she paused. Should she tell this staunch old 
friend, this man who had once loved her so well, and to 
whom she believed she was still dearer than any other 
woman — should she tell him how her idol has fallen, 
shattering in its fall all her life’s happiness. No ! She 
resolved she could not bring herself to tell him everything. 
There would be danger in that to little Jack’s father, so 
she would keep her whole counsel and tell him nothing. 

When do you go down ? ” he asked after a moment’s 
pause. 

The house was rapidly filling now for As m a Looking 
Glass^ and he was turning round for a final chat before 
the curtain rose. 


THAT OTHER WO MAH. 


217 


As he did so he caught sight of a lady and gentleman 
making their way along the row in which Violet was 
towards the two vacant seats by her side. They were 
still at some distance and two or three obstructingly stout 
bodies sat m their way and hindered their progress. It 
was but a momentary glimpse he gave them but it was 
enough to show him that Violet’s husband and the pretty 
girl who had so attracted him (Sir Lionel) when in Devon- 
shire in the early spring were advancing upon Mrs. Phil- 
lipps-Twysden and himself in absolute unconsciousness. 

He gave a glance of terror at Violet. What if there 
should be a scene ? 

In another instant he was reassured on this point. Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden, after one swift glance at the pair, who 
little guessed that she was there to see them, said to him 
rapidly and imperatively : 

“ Be guided absolutely by my manner. She is blame- 
less.” 

He could only promise obedience by a look ; but he 
felt that the drama to be presently enacted behind him 
would be of more absorbing interest to him that the one 
he had come to see on the stage. 

As Florence subsided into her stall she recognised her 
neighbor, and Phillipps Twysden was first made aware of 
the presence of his wife by hearing Florence say : 

Oh, Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, I am so glad to see you 
are better. Let me introduce my husband to you.” 

Violet turned her head slowly and smiled strangely, 
Florence thought. Then she inclined her head very 
slightly towards the man who sat turned to stone, as it 
seemed, on the other side of Florence. 

But at last she found her voice and answered the 
enquiry. 

I am well again, thank you. At least — not well 
enough to sit out the whole of Lena Despard’s career of 
crime. I shall ask you to take me out presently, and find 


2i8 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


a cab for me, Sir Lionel,” she added, aloud, thus obliging 
him to turn round again and confront the villain who was 
ruining the lives of the only two women who had ever 
won tender thoughts from Lionel Halford. As the two 
men’s eyes met, the insignificant little baronet looked the 
infinitely grander fellow of the two. 

Perhaps you do not know Mr. and Mrs. Phillipps,” 
Violet forced herself to say, and he detected the ring of 
heart-broken appeal in her tones. You have met Mrs. 
Phillipps before ? Indeed, how singular, how very 
singular that we should all meet by chance in this way. 
By chance, by happy cruel chance.” 

“You are going to be ill again. Jack, help her,” Flo;- 
ence cried excitedly, as Violet’s voice grew fainter and 
fainter, and the words she uttered were evidently spoken 
with rapidly increasing difficulty. But Violet put aside 
the proffered aid, and staggered wearily to her feet. 

“ Come out with me. Sir Lionel,” she said. “ Take me 
home to my mother’s house ; I think I am going to have 
an illness. I shall be better with my mother.” 

Sir Lionel rose at once, and made his way out quickly 
to meet her ; and Violet drew her garments closely round 
and swept swiftly, with averted head, past her husband. 
As she disappeared without a word of leave-taking, Flor- 
ence said angrily : 

“ What strange manners that woman has. I don’t 
think she can be quite right in her head. She stared like 
an imbecile at you when I introduced you. And how 
funny of her to be alone at a theatre, and to order that 
little man about as if he were her own private property. 
Why isn’t her husband here, I wonder ? Do you know, 
Jack, I don’t think she can be quite a good woman, in 
spite of all Mrs. Raymont says about her. Do you ? ” 

“ I don’t want to think about her at all.” 

“ How odd you are too. Jack.” 

“ My dear child, I am here to enjoy Mrs. Bernard 


T//AT OTHER WOMAN, 


219 


Beere’s acting, not worry my brain with vain speculations 
about — about Mrs. Raymont and her friends. That’s a 
jolly gown, isn’t it ; wouldn’t you like to have one cut on 
the same lines, Flo ? I’m rather tired of your tailor-made 
neat fits for the home ; I want to see you in something 
voluminously flowing, by way of a check.” 

“ In a tea-gown, in fact ? ” she said, falling into the trap 
unsuspiciously. But you see, Jack, habits are more in 
my line. When is Uncle Joe going to send my horse up, 
I wonder? I’m longing to be in the saddle again. Can 
you take a holiday soon ? If you can we might run down 
to Eastmoor, and see dear mother and all of them, and 
fetch the gee.” 

I’m tired ; but I’ll give you leave to go without me for 
a few days if you care to do so.” 

As if I would go without you. Indeed, no ; you’re 
not going to get rid of me in that way yet. Jack. I’ll ask 
Uncle Joe to send one of the boys up with the horse, and 
then I shall begin my explorations on horseback over the 
fair countries of Middlesex and Surrey. There’s another 
lovely dress — that’s the one I’d like to have copied, if you 
really will let me be so extravagant.” 

Be as extravagant as you like,” he said, scarcely know- 
ing what he was saying. The shock of finding himself 
suddenly confronted with his wife without any chance of 
escaping the fatal exposure which he felt sure must follow, 
had shattered his nerves to an extent that almost alarmed 
himself. His head and hands were trembling as if he had 
had a palsy stroke. His thoughts and his words were at 
odds. He fell that he could not exercise a safe control 
over the latter, and so he grew irritable when some re- 
mark of Florence’s seemed to demand an answer. 

At last he could bear it no longer. The whole scene 
swam before his eyes, and the voices got farther and 
farther away from him each moment, 

‘‘ I must have air,” he gasped, and with that he strug- 


220 


T//A7^ OTHER WOMAN, 


gled to his feet and staggered oat, followed by Florence, 
who even in her alarm felt a good deal of annoyance at 
the fainting tendencies of those who had come in contact 
with her this day. 

But she reproached herself with having felt this annoy- 
ance when, having reached home, Mr. Phillipps grew 
feverish and wild in both manner and appearance. Before 
morning he was raging in a violent attack of brain fever, 
through which for several days the poor girl nursed him 
alone. During his moments of madness — and they were 
many — he perpetually called on Florence to protect him 
from that woman,” but he never mentioned that woman’s 
name, and so Florence neither identified her with Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden, nor attached much importance to his 
ravings. 

It’s someone he knew long before he married me,” she 
told herself, as she tended him with unshaken confidence 
and undiminished affection. 

While she was unwearmgly tending him through the 
most trying phases of his most trying illness, and nursing 
him back to convMescence, she more than once encoun- 
tered Sir Lionel Halford in the course of that hour of 
exercise which she was compelled to give herself daily. 

The first time they met he would have passed her with 
a mere bow, but this the girl, ignorant of his motive 
and of the feelings which inspired his action, would not 
permit. 

“ Don’t you remember me ? ” she asked, and before he 
cculd reply she went on, “ I was Florence Arle, you may 
remember, and now you know I’m Mrs. Phillipps. My 
poor husband has been awfully, really awfully ill ; but he 
is better now, and the doctor gives me quite bright hopes 
of him. He was taken ill that night I saw you at the 
theatre with Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden. Don’t you remem- 
ber ? ” 

Sir Lionel remembered perfectly.” 


T/IA7' OTHER WOMAN. 


221 


“ Well, when we went home that night he was very 
strange, shivered and rambled, and at last raved. I was 
nearly heart-broken, and didn’t know to whom to turn. 
You see,” she went on in a burst of confidence that 
touched him to the heart, “ you see, when I married I 
came away from all my own people, and Jack has now no 
relations at all, so I’m very much alone.” 

Sir Lionel listened, and was sorely exercised in mind. 
Could this girl really be as good and innocent as she looked 
and seemed or was she a practised hypocrite, prelending to 
be a wife when she knew that she had no claim to the 
honored title ? He remembered the dramatic meeting be- 
tween Phillipps-Twysden and his real wife at the theatre. 
He remembered how Violet had insisted on his (Sir 
Lionel’s) being guided by her manner, and he recalled the 
words in which she had assured him that this girl whom 
appearances were so fearfully against, was blameless. 

In the face of all the evidence that went to prove poor 
Florence guilty, he struggled to retain his faith in her. 
But one question he would ask. 

‘‘You were married rather privately, I presume? ” 

“ Yes, quite ; only my mother was present at my 
wedding,” she said simply. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

THE DUCHESS TO THE RESCUE. 

In the face of that simple, spontaneous statement. Sir 
Lionel stood abashed and contrite. How could he have 
dared to suspect a girl with such a face as hers of being a 
commonplace, vulgar victim to a man’s perfidy. She 
could never be a party to a low, immoral intrigue. He 
felt quite convinced of that now, as he looked surreptiti- 
ously at the clear, delicate outline of her cheek and chin, 
seen in profile as she walked quickly along by his side. 


222 


T/IJT OTHER WOMAN, 


You see/’ she began, after a minute’s pause, slacken- 
ing her pace to speak to him, ‘‘ I was hurried by a lot of 
little events, that were each unimportant taken singly, into 
marrying in a great hurry. It wasn’t at all the. sort of 
wedding I wanted to have, but it was all for the best. I’m 
sure now. If we hadn’t married when we did, poor Jack 
would have been alone in this terrible illness, with no one 
to take care of him.” 

How devoutly Sir Lionel wished that this had been the 
case. Still for her sake he suppressed his feelings and 
tried to seem to agree with her. To his own surprise — 
almost to his horror — he found himself pitying this nearly 
strange young woman quite as heartily and as tenderly as 
for many a long month he had pitied Violet. He knew 
that in doing so he was disloyal to his first love, but for 
the life of him he couldn’t help himself. 

The girl is a darling. She must be saved from this 
life of degradation and misery, and at the same time she 
must be spared the knowledge that it is such a life,” he 
told himself quixotically, racking his brains to think of a 
reason for removing Florence from the position she was so 
proudly and fondly occupying, without at the same time 
arousing alarm or suspicion in her mind. 

She meanwhile recognising that he was feeling kindly 
towards her, little as he said, went on chattering as unre- 
servedly and comfortably as if he had been an old woman, 
or one of Uncle Joe’s stable-boys. 

“ Now that he’s getting better I feel my position more 
than I thought it was possible I ever could have felt it be- 
fore he got ill. It’s dull work for a man having no one 
but his wife to speak to, and not one of Jack’s acquain- 
tances have been near him yet — isn’t it odd ? His clerk 
has been on business once, but of course, I wouldn’t let 
him see my husband. I told him to act on his own 
responsibility for the best in the interests of the house till 
he heard from Mr. Phillipps or me, and you should have 


THAT OTHER WOMAN", 12'^ 

seen how he stared at me. I shall tell Jack I didn’t like 
that head clerk of his.” 

Why didn’t you send for your mother ? ” Sir Lionel 
asked vaguely. 

He had an idea that he was answering Florence instead 
of merely following out his own train of thought. 

Because ” — she paused, her eyes flashed as she turned 
her crimsoning face towards him, but she would tell out 
the truth, hard as it was to her — because my husband 
has told me not to do it. He won’t have anyone about him 
but me and the nurse. I told him my mother would be a 
help to me, but as he disliked the idea of her coming I 
couldn’t worry him, and so I gave it up. The truth is, I 
suppose he wants the society of a man. Now, would you 
come and see him and try to cheer him up, one day? It 
would be doing me a kindness.” 

Perhaps he wouldn’t care to see me ? ” 

I don’t think he’d mind, really I don’t,” she said 
frankly. ‘^You see, you’re a stranger to him, and would 
suggest fresh trains of thought, and that’s what is needful 
to him now, the doctor says. Both the doctors say that 
he must have had some great shock on the top of some 
long-continued worry and anxiety, and that has overdone 
him. It must have been some business shock and worry, 
for I can answer for it that he has had no domestic trouble. 
I do wish you would come in unexpectedly and try to 
divert his mind.” 

“ You’re very kind. I mean I would do anything in my 
power to help you, but ” 

Sir Lionel stammered, and finally broke down helplessly. 
To go and visit the man whose cause she was pleading with 
such touching trust and confidence was impossible ; 
equally impossible was it to refuse any request of hers 
made in that ringing brave young voice, and with that 
little impatient knitting of the brows that had so bewitched 
him when he looked at her first by the side of the anemone 


224 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


bed ill the old-fashioned vicarage garden away in the heart 
of Devonshire. 

I will try to do as you wish — I will try to please you,” 
he managed to say, and then Florence relaxed her earnest 
brows and laughed aloud. 

“ Don’t speak so solemnly about such a trifle as a call,” 
she said cheerfully; ‘‘and please forgive me if in my 
desire to cheer up my husband I foigot what a much more 
important member of society you are than we claim to be. 
Of course you must have half a hundred demands on your 
time of which I don’t even as much as dream. Still if you 
can spare half-an-hour one day soon, do come and see 
him and tell him club news. Now, I must go in. We are 
close to our house — this is my number. Don’t forget 
it.” 

“ I shall never forget it,” he said impressively. 

Then she ran up the steps and into the house, and he 
walked on wondering what he ought to do. 

“ The brute’s a bigamist, and that sweet wife of his will 
wear her heart out in silence hiding his sin and saving 
him from the punishment he so richly deserves.” 

All his pity, all his sympathy were with Violet as he 
thought this. The next moment he forgot her, and dwelt 
only on the miserable sacrifice that Florence was making 
of her life. 

“ She is not like Violet. If once she finds out that she 
has been wronged and tricked and deceived, she’ll cast 
him out from her heart, and take her revenge. Well, I 
hope she’ll be enlightened before long, goor girl ; but on 
my word, I shouldn’t care to be the one to enlighten her. 
What a hound the fellow is, and what an unhappy hound 
he must be now if his brain is clear enough to remember 
what he has done. I should like to tell Susan about it, 
but I’m morally bound to secrecy, and so I must puzzle 
out the question of what I am to do in this miserable 
matter unassisted.” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


225 


He was a very wealthy and important. and much sought 
and highly favored member of society, nevertheless it is 
the fact that he was a very unhappy and greatly bewildered 
little man in these days. He could rarely detach his 
thoughts from one or the other of the two women who had 
so impressed themselves upon his heart, and he dared not 
discuss them and their difficulties with Lady Susan 
Meadows. As for some long time he had been accustom- 
ed to take all his troubles, trials, triumphs, and interests 
to that genial and sympathetic lady, his inability to take 
her into his confidence in this matter was a piece of self- 
restraint that fretted him considerably. 

Especially did he find it hard to maintain a guardedly 
safe reserve when Lady Susan would elect to make Violet 
and her affairs her theme. The two ladies kept up a 
moderately regular and exhaustive correspondence, and 
though Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden never mentioned her absent 
husband, Lady Susan chose to read between the lines and 
declare that his incomprehensible conduct was destroying 
the peace of ViolePs life. 

“ I can’t think that he can have run away with someone 
else, or we should have heard something about it ; yet it 
seems an odd thing to leave his wife in that way, unless 
there is another woman in the case,” she speculated, 
addressing Sir Lionel, who was redder than usual from the 
conscious guilt of deceit. 

“ I don’t care to think about the fellow at all,” he said 
curtly. 

‘‘ He always gave me the idea of being a cool, hard kind 
of a man, but I should never have thought him a vicious 
one,” Lady Susan went on. “ Violet won’t answer any of 
my delicate hints or downright questions about him. She 
just ignores them, and it’s so provoking. I asked her 
once if she wanted me to think that there were faults on 
her side as well as on his, and she told me I could please 
myself about it. Do you ever run across Phillipps-Twys- 

8 


226 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


den anywhere, or has he ceased to visit any of the haunts 
of men ? 

I never see him.’^ 

Does that mean that you won’t see him ? Is he a 
person to be looked through — not at ? Tell me, because 
if you don’t give me a good reason for not doing so, I shall 
certainly stop him if ever I see him and ask him outright 
why he doesn’t go back to that dear wife of his who 
adores him.” 

I think you had better not.’' 

I am not often influenced by a mere sense of expe- 
diency. If you want me to cut Phillipps Twysden you 
must give a good reason for doing so, and Til do it ; but 
Til not render a blind obedience even to your wishes, my 
friend.” 

I am bound in honor to keep my wishes a secret,” he 
said, and Lady Susan laid her hand on his shoulder, and 
looked him frankly in the face, as she said — 

Now listen to me ; we are real staunch friends, and we 
have never tried to deceive each other yet, don’t begin 
doing it now. Are you still so miserably weak about 
Violet that you are actually allowing her husband to carry 
on an intrigue in the hopes that it may attain such propor- 
tions that she must at last notice it and claim her liberty. 
Because if you are, I despise you.” 

‘‘ I must submit to your judgment. I can say nothing 
to refute it save this, that I have ceased to have any feel- 
ing beyond friendship and pity for Mrs. Phillipps-Twys- 
den.” 

Do you mean to tell me that if poor Violet were free 
and would have you, you wouldn’t want to marry her 
now.” 

On my honor, I can assure you that I have no more 
desire to marry Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden, granting that she 
were free as air, and would have me, than I have to 
marry ” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


227 


Me, let us say,” she said, laughingly filling up the 
pause. “ Well, Lai, l am bound to believe you, but still 
I ask why do you screen the husband ? ” 

Don’t ask.” 

Well, I won’t, if my apparent cessation from curiosity 
on the subject gives you a particle of pleasure. Now I 
must entertain some of the other people, and you may go 
and talk to mamma.” 

This conversation took place on one of many evenings 
which found Sir Lionel a guest at Meadfort House. He 
was there daily, in fact, and had grown quite accustomed 
to being treated with a mixture of fondness and freedom 
by the duchess, who still intended to have him for her son- 
in-law eventually. It seemed to her that she had seen 
several signs of an approaching surrender on the part of 
this extremely eligible man lately. It was not only that he 
came to the house constantly, but he always appeared 
a trifle thrown out of gear if he could not manage a little 
quiet conversation with Susan. If he were forced by the 
exigencies of etiquette to devote his attention to any other 
lady than Susan when the latter was present, he always 
looked anxious to be released, and the first use he inva- 
riably made of his freedom was to get near Susan. 

“ He doesn’t know it himself, but he can’t do without 
her,” the duchess often said to herself ; and she was more 
fully persuaded of this truth than ever on this special 
evening, for Sir Lionel’s eyes seemed to follow Lady 
Susan’s every movement with a hungry gaze. The fact 
was, he longed to go on talking on the dangerous topic of 
the Phillipps-Twysdens — and this not because of any old 
romance about Violet, but because he could think of little 
else, save them and their connection with Florence. So 
he seized every opportunity of skating about the subject 
with Lady Susan, and when she moved away from him, his 
eyes followed her in watchful, anxious expectancy of her 
return. No wonder the duchess thought his demeanor 


228 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


highly promising ; and no wonder that thinking this, and 
being a woman of prompt action in such matters, she 
should have made up her mind to give him a few words of 
encouragement that might speed him on his wooing. 

Accordingly, when in obedience to Lady Susan’s orders, 
he went over to the duchess’ side, and prepared to 
entertain her with polite conversation, that lady said 
affably : 

I almost know what you’re going to say to me. I’ve 
seen it coming for a long time, and I won’t pretend to be 
surprised. You and Susan have settled it at last, I see ; 
and, my dear Halford, I can’t tell you how glad I shall be 
to have you for a son. There, there, don’t trouble yourself 
to explain; I understand, and I needn’t tell you Liat 
you’ll have no trouble with the duke — he’ll be as plea »ed 
as I am.” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

AN ALTERNATIVE. 

Sir Lionel had made two or three ineffectual attempts to 
arrest the stream of the duchess’ eloquence, and had felt 
himself a brute for doing so. When from sheer want of 
breath she came to a full stop, he knew that the crisis had 
come, and that he must either cut himself adrift ungrate- 
fully from these kindly people for ever, or take the fate she 
proffered him. The former prospect loomed far too dis- 
mally for him to contemplate it for more than a moment. 
After all, where in the weary waste of fashionable life 
would he find another friend like Lady Susan? No- 
where ! Such women are not often reared on society’s 
hot-beds, he reminded himself ; and he must forget her as 
a friend after what her mother had said, unless he secured 
her as a wife. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


229 


You are only too good to me,” he managed to say ; 
and the duchess, who was spilt very far back in her chair, 
managed to heave forward and put her hand on his arm. 

I should be a cruel mother if I didn’t rejoice in the 
happiness that has come to my daughter at last. Susan’s 
heart has been craving for this for many a year. Don’t 
thank me ; I am a selfish old woman, and I honestly con- 
fess that I would much rather see my daughter the mistress 
of a place like Halford than ‘Hn maiden meditation” on a 
narrow income, when her father dies. And Susan will be 
a good wife to you ; she knows she isn’t your first love, and 
she won’t expect you to be slavishly adoring as your first 
love would have done, probably. But she’ll be a good 
wife to you ; she knows she’s plain, and so she’ll be all 
the more grateful to you for having over-looked the plain- 
ness.” 

This was being ‘‘ honest ” with a vengeance. Sir Lionel’s 
heart palpitated in kindly indignation as he heard the plain 
truth from her mother’s lips, relative to the lack of charms 
of his bride elect. 

Poor Susan,” hq, thought, she’s often had to hear 
that she’s no beauty, I’m afraid. How surprised she’ll be 
to find she’s engaged to me. Wonder if I’d better go and 
prepare her? or shall I keep quiet and give the old lady 
the pleasure of letting loose the news.” 

It was easier to sit still and listen to her grace’s com- 
placent remarks than to ramble after Susan with an expla- 
nation. So he placidly sat still, wondering why, as he had 
done it now, he hadn’t done it before, hazily hoping that 
Susan would be so happy that she would refrain from ques- 
tioning him about the decline and fall of his love for Violet ; 
and rather indignant with himself for wishing that he had 
saved Florence Arle from the woeful fate that had over- 
taken her by marrying her himself. 

“ Don’t let me keep you here if you want to go and talk 
to Susan,” said the contented mother affably, after a short 
pause. 


230 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


Oh, not at all,” the philosophic lover replied promptly. 

The duchess laughed and remarked : 

Susan and you have let the time of romance slip over 
your heads, but I don’t know that you’re either of you to 
be pitied for that. A good, calm, reasonable affection, 
founded on esteem and thorough knowledge of each other’s 
character, is, perhaps, the best thing to start with in 
married life.” 

I’ve no doubt of my own happiness and good fortune, 
at any rate, and I’ll do my best to mal:e up to her for having 
let the time of romance slip by.” 

Then he got up, and after a slight dHour^ made in order 
to collect his faculties before he broached the subject to 
Susan, he made his way over to her. 

What a long gossip you’ve had witn mamma. What 
has it all been about? You looked so hopelessly dejected 
once or twice that I thought of coming to the rescue.” 

Then my looks were faithless expositors of my feelings. 
I was and am very happy. The duchess congratulated 
me on our engagement — you won’t disappoint her and 
reject me, because she discovered it before we knew it 
ourselves — will you ? ” 

He spoke so seriously and so deferentially that she knew 
he was in earnest. 

Mamma has hastened the conclusion upon you by 
something she has said, or forced it upon you altogether. 
Is it so ? Don’t dread telling me the truth. We are such 
real friends that we can always speak the truth to one 
another.” 

And the truth — I am happy to say it — is that I wish it 
to be as your mother suspected. You won’t fail me, will 
you, Susan ? I have allowed her to suppose that we have 
quite settled it. She will think me an arrogant, presump- 
tuous fool if she finds that I have assumed security before 
I had your word for it that it was established between us.” 

‘‘You put things very kindly for mamma and me,” she 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


231 


said thoughtfully; “but how about yourself? Thinli of 
yourself for a minute, you good, unselfish fellow, before 
you declare yourself ready to forget the one woman of 
your life — your love for Violet Grove — and marry me.” 

“Violet Grove doesn’t exist, and Violet Phillipps-Twys- 
den is as unattainable as the stars above us. I respect, 
admire, almost reverence her still, but I have been a fool 
not to admit to myself long ago that all the romance con- 
cerning her has died out in my heart. Her memory will 
never intervene between us, dear.” 

He spoke affectionately, and Lady Susan had loved him 
very dearly for a very long time. It was surely not a very 
extraordinary thing that she should have accepted the 
chance of happiness planned after her own design. 

“ Then if I can make you half as happy as being your 
wife will make me, you will be a happy man, Lionel.” 

“ Thank you, dear,” he said quietly ; and so this engage- 
ment was ratified without much enthusiasm, perhaps, but 
with a good deal of well-assured confidence and satisfaction 
on both sides. 

Two or three days after this, everyone who was interested 
in either of them read without surprise that “ a marriage 
has been arranged between Sir Lionel Halford, baronet, of 
Halford, Blankshire, and Lady Susan Meadows, fourth 
daughter of the Duke of Meadford. The marriage will 
take place shortly.” 

Among others Mr. Phillipps-Twysden read, and thought 
exultantly, “ whether I die or not before, Violet will never 
marry that fellow now.” 

Though he had let his love for Violet turn to the hatred 
that the wicked are apt to feel against those whom they 
have injured, he still grudged her to Sir Lionel. 

For many days after that miserable meeting at the theatre, 
Mr. Phillipps felt as if he were merely breathing the air of 
freedom on sufferance. He could not realise the complete 
and perfect generosity of Violet’s nature. He could not 


232 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


force his reason to accept as a fact that mute assurance of 
forbearance which Violet had given him both by her silence 
when his miniature was shown by poor, innocent Florence, 
and by her (Violet’s) refusal to recognise him at the theatre. 
He maligned her motives in his own mind to the extent of 
fearing that she was only holding her hand in order to 
strike him the more unerringly when she should have lulled 
him into a state of fancied security. 

‘‘ She’s a proud woman, and she’ll be revenged on me 
some day or other,” he thought, and then he dolefully 
pictured himself figuring in the dock first and in penal 
servitude afterwards as a bigamist. 

And my boy — my little Jack, will be destroyed by the 
same blow.” To do him justice, this thought hurt him 
even more than did the idea of the hard labor ” which 
he knew to be his well-deserved portion. It did not occur 
to his guilt-dulled heart that in Violet’s love for and pride 
in little Jack lay his (Phillipps-Twysden’s) strongest safe- 
guard. It would never be known through her that Jack’s 
father was a cowardly, criminal breaker of the laws of God 
and man. 

But as day after day passed over his head, and he still 
found himself free to come and go without let or hindrance 
from his only lawful wife, he began to conjure up spirits 
wherewith to haunt himself Florence was altering. The 
change in her was so subtle that no casual observer or un- 
interested person could have perceived it. But he saw it 
and felt it in every fibre of his being, from the moment 
when, coming home one night, Florence failed to meet him 
with a welcoming kiss. 

The omission marked an epoch in their lives. 

He had come from the City a little earlier than usual, 
intending to ask her to go up the river and dine. When 
he came into a little room at the end of the big dining- 
room, which had been fitted up for her with such shades 
of salmony-pink and sage-blue as only Liberty can supply, 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


233 

he found her sitting down, idle and listless — rare things 
with Florence. 

Have you been riding to-day, darling ? he asked, and 
as he asked it he stooped to meet her greeting kiss. But 
Florence was not prepared to render it him. 

“ I have been riding — not far though.” She had taken 
off her hat and habit, leaving her hair in the rigidly neat 
but not attractive form in which she always disposed of it 
when bound for the saddle. 

Shall we run up the river and dine ? ” 

He stood back, as if a trifle offended, as he gave his 
invitation. Apparently, Florence failed to grasp that her 
own manner was in fault, for she said chillingly — 

I don’t feel inclined to move, but please don’t stay at 
home on my account. I have several papers and a new 
book, and I can get through the evening very well alone.” 

“ But I cannot,” he said in gentler tones than he or- 
dinarily used to any one in his power. Come, Flo, 
dear ; rouse yourself and come out with me on the river. 
It has been ghastly hot in the City to-day, and I feel that 
I shall eat no more dinner than I did luncheon if I stay 
at home.” 

Do go,” she interrupted, starting forward in her chair. 
‘‘ I shall like to feel that you’re happy on the river. I 
thought I can’t go with you, have made another appoint- 
ment which I mean to keep, so I hope you won’t be 
vexed with me for having made it.” 

‘‘ You are very free and independent, still I hope you 
will tell me where and with whom your appointment is 
made.” 

‘‘ With old Uncle Joe, at the Great Western Hotel, as 
soon as I can get away after dinner.” 

Why doesn’t the old churl come here to see you ? ” 

He doesn’t say why.” 

‘‘Then until he gives his reasons for refusing to visit 
his niece in her own house, I shall refuse to allow you to 
meet him out of it.” 


234 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


She knit her brows — not at him, but at the opposing 
influence of her life, and patted the floor with her foot for 
a few moments. Then she looked up brightly with a 
solution of the difficulty on her lips. 

You go instead of me. Jack. He says : ^ If Mr. 

Phillipps will come and say to me, come and see my wife, 
your niece, at my house,’ he will come. But not else.” 

The old man must be daft to think I should go through 
such an idiotic formula for the sake of obtaining the doubt- 
ful blessing of his presence here.” 

‘‘ Don’t get angry,” she said calmly. Does it strike 
you as an ^ idiotic formula ? ’ Don’t use it if it does. Only 
if you won’t go, I must go and see Uncle Joe, and you 
must go on the river and dine alone.” 

You offer me a pleasant alternative.” 

“ Surely, if you think it unpleasant, you will be gracious 
and invite Uncle Joe here.” 

I will not be dictated to by an old chawbacon ” 

Who is my uncle — and has been my best friend and 
guardian since dear papa got helpless. Don’t call him 
names. Jack ; when you do you rouse something in me 
that I don’t want to have roused — I want to go on feeling 
about you as I have begun ; don’t try to make me think 
things of you that you wouldn’t have liked me to think 
before we were married ? ” 

Look here, Florence.” He tried to speak with a stern 
gravity, tempered with the mercifulness of conscious power 
that would, he anticipated, overawe her, or at least silence 
further remonstrance and appeal from her. He remembered 
that it frequently had had this desired effect upon Violet, 
so with a few misgivings, he tried it on Florence now. 

Look here, Florence, you tell me that you wish to re- 
tain the opinion you formed of me before we married. Is 
that true ? ” 

Quite true.” 

Did I then give you the impression that I was a weak 
fool?” 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


23s 


** Indeed, you did not, or I shouldn’t have married you.” 

Did you believe me then to be a man with a firm will, 
capable of carrying into effect views that I held to be 
correct ? ” 

You gave me the idea of being a man who would have 
his own way whenever he could, and I hope I gave you 
the idea of being a woman who would always surrender 
her will to your way when I felt and believed that way to 
be good.” 

But you reserve your right of judgment, and cease to 
think my way good as it turns away from the direction 
you — or Uncle Joe in this instance — wish it to take.” 

am not so foolish. Jack. I only wish you first to 
pay my uncle, who has been so good to me, the slight com- 
pliment of inviting him to your house — to {?ur home ; and 
if you won’t do that, I only wish that secondly, you will 
not object to my going to see him. Poor old man, he has 
done me nothing but kindness all my life. Don’t even 
seem to wish me to slight him, or you will make me more 
miserable than you think. Jack.” 

Do you care more for pleasing him than for pleasing 
me ? ” 

It could never please you that I should act meanly 
and ungratefully.” 

“ Then I must, I suppose, say good-bye to the pleasant 
evening I had planned on the river ? ” 

‘^Yes, do, like a dear, and go and bring Uncle Joe 
here.” 

Not for worlds. I mean it would be better for you to 
go alone, if you will go. He will be able to poison your 
mind more effectually against me if I am not present.” 

“ There is only one person in the world who could do 
that,” she said, rising with a sigh, and when he asked her 
Who that person was,” she replied — 

“ Yourself.” 

As she was passing out of the room he caught her by 
both hands and turned her towards him. 


236 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


■ My love, my own darling Flo, don’t leave me coolly, 
for heaven’s sake. You don’t know how I love you. You 
never will know for you’ll never understand what I have 
done — what I have sacrificed to gain you.” 

‘‘ Then now you have gained me, sacrifice your paltry 
pride to keep me. Give the old horse-breaker a welcome 
to your house, because he is your wife’s very dear old 
uncle.” 

‘‘ I’ll do what you please about him to-morrow if he 
doesn’t try his underhand tricks to upset me in your esti- 
mation to-night,” he promised. 

And with that they parted, he to take all his misgivings 
and nervous dreads on the river ; and she to present her- 
self to the scrutinizing gaze of Uncle Joe, who would, she 
feared, detect that her happiness was not founded on such 
a rock as she had professed to him that she had built it 
upon. 

It was, perhaps, a little to be regretted that on her way 
to the Great Western Hotel she should have met Mrs. 
Phillipps-Twysden, who was parting at the entrance to the 
station with a short, stout, rubicund man, and a tall, pale 
lady, whom Florence recognised instinctively as the short, 
stout man’s fiancee^ Lady Susan Meadows. 

As she approached the group with a bright frank smile 
and an extended hand, Violet glanced imploringly at Sir 
Lionel, who was, perhaps, quite as much agitated at the 
encounter as was Mrs. Phillipps-Twysden. 

‘‘ Spare us both ; think of my Jack,” the latter contrived 
to whisper to Sir Lionel. 

And the whisper was overheard by that most sensible 
and prudent of women. Lady Susan. 

Sensible and prudent as she was, it nettled her that Sir 
Lionel’s old love should make a private plea to him on 
behalf of herself and someone else without making an 
attempt to include Lady Susan herself in the belle alliance. 


T//AT OTHER WOMAN. 


237 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

MR. PHILLIPPS ARRANGES THE END. 

As Phillipps went away to enjoy himself upon the river, 
he knew that he was a deservedly disappointed man. 
Florence would never repay him for what she had cost 
hinn She would want him to live an honest, open, high- 
toned life with her, and if he refused to do so she would 
live it without him. 

Putting things in the fairest light that he could in order 
that he might get a fragment of enjoyment out of this mid- 
summer evening, he found that all that was left to him of 
special delusion which he had seen in a life with Florence 
was this — namely, that she would only go with him when 
she felt him to be quite right, and that she would very 
seldom do. 

Finding that he had miscalculated both his own strength 
and hers, and that his prospect of a happy life as he had 
planned it was fast fading away, he found himself almost 
regretting that he had not conquered the evil inclinations 
which had beset and tempted him when he first com- 
menced playing Faust to poor Florence’s Marguerite. 

More than this, he began to speculate whether it would 
be possible by sacrificing Florence entirely, by deserting 
her and leaving no trace of himself behind for her to follow 
up, to regain the right to re-enter the old life and persuade 
Violet to live again in apparent domestic peace if not 
felicity with him. 

But he soon dismissed these idle speculations as to what 
might even now possibly be from his mind. Violet would 
not hold him up to shame and ignominy and heavy punish- 


238 


THAT OTHER WO MAH. 


ment, richly as he merited these things, for their boy’s 
sake. But she would hold aloof from him as she would 
from the deadly sins. 

There was nothing, therefore, left for him but to make 
the best of his bad bargain. There was no escape from 
the daily routine of disappointments which Florence’s 
higher nature would inflict upon him until the end. 

Until the end! What would the end be for him, he 
wondered. He had never thought much about death : he 
had always been too full of plans for making his life agree- 
able to himself. But now that he was forced to face a few 
disagreeableness he fell to moodily wondering how the end 
would come to him. 

The river ran clear and deep all round him, and death 
by drowning was not so miserably bad, he had heard 
people say who had been nearly drowned. The river was 
not a fleeting transitory channel of escaping from his 
troubles should they become unendurable. The river was 
always here — he need not avail himself of the friendly 
service it might do him to-day. He would wait, and give 
Florence an opportunity of retracing those obnoxiously 
pronounced opinions of hers, and of expressing in her 
actions some more of that patiently adoring, obedient 
love for him, for which he craved as ardently as if he had 
been a good man and deserved it. 

Still, the idea of death by drowning clung hauntingly to 
him all the evening, which was an exceptionally hot one. 
It would be a cool soft sort of method of quitting existence, 
and just at present anything cool and soft had a special 
charm for him. And it could always be arranged by a 
man of strong practical common-sense so as to look acci- 
dental and not cowardly. Little Jack would never have 
to suffer the odium of being the child of a suicide if he 
should one day overbalance himself in a light boat and go 
under in one of the shady back waters of the Thames. 

As he dined exquisitely at a little river-side hotel he 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


239 


looked out with prophetic eyes and felt that he saw the 
end on the broad faithful waters that might be trusted to 
keep his secret so well — the secret he would so surely give 
them to keep unless Florence altered. 

He had a more real sense of power about him now that 
he had made up his mind that the end should come in this 
way if he were driven to it. For instance, if that old chaw- 
bacon uncle of Flo’s had poked his nose into any danger- 
ous bit of Mr. Phillipps’ past and communicated his 
discovery to Florence, he would just walk out of the house 
and let the waters wash him clean from all disgrace and 
difficulty. From that vantage-ground at the bottom of the 
deep his inanimate body could defy his accusers, and 
Florence could never have the heart when she realized 
that she had lost him to visit his sins on little Jack’s head. 

As he thought of that golden little head and of the 
lovely loving little fellow’s endearing looks and ways, the 
muscles of his face twitched, and hot tears of unavailing 
remorse and self-pity stood in his eyes. 

For the first time in his manhood he cried. 

He tried to check the unwonted weakness by puffing 
vigorously at a cigar, and filling a pretty Bohemian glass 
full of Tokay. But the spirit of retrospect beat cigar and 
the golden dancing wine. The tears gathered and nearly 
blinded him, and then fell over his cheeks in hot, heavy 
drops. Undoubtedly his nerves were terribly tried and 
weakened by the surprises and shocks he had endured of 
late, and by the recollection of the Paradise from which he 
had cast himself out. 

There had been far more sadness than joviality in his 
evening’s outing to this point. But now he roused him- 
self, and persuaded himself that the greater part of depres- 
sion had been due to inaninaation from want of food. The 
majority of the ghosts that had been haunting him would 
be — were, in fact — laid now that he had dined. Still, 
there was a certain quiet satisfaction to be derived from 


240 


THAT OTHER W0M2H. 


that resolution he had come to about the river. But what- 
ever was going to happen he must see little Jack once more 
before the end came. 

He was conscious of a sort of qualm by and by when 
he stepped again into the boat, intending to pull back to 
Maidenhead and from thence to take train to town. Sup- 
posing the boat should capsize accidentally in reality this 
very night, and the end he had found such comfort in 
planning out come to him before he felt it to be needful. 
The feeling possessed him so strongly that he left the boat 
where she was, and went back the whole distance by 
train. 

Florence was at home — had been at home for more than 
an hour. He looked at her so keenly that she returned his 
gaze with open-eyed amazement. 

What is it? Have I a smut on my nose?” she 
asked, and he knew by the words and the way in which 
they were uttered that she had not heard anything dan- 
gerous from her uncle. 

He sat down by her side, and she leant her head on his 
shoulder while she questioned him as to the yay in which 
he had spent his evening, and in return told him what had 
passed between Uncle Joe and herself. 

‘‘The dear old man seems lost in that big hotel. I did 
my best to get him to come home with me and stay here, 
but he can’t do it, he says, till you have been to see him. 
Why don’t you go. Jack ? He has never done anything to 
hurt or vex you, has he? You surely might do it to please 
me.” 

“ Why don’t the old ruffian come here like a sensible 
uncle instead of dragging me to call on him ? He has no 
business to be so punctilious.” 

“ Don’t despise him,” she put in hastily. “ You’ll take 
your own way and please yourself about going to see him, 
but you shall not speak sneeringly of him to me.” 

She had sprung from her chair while speaking, and 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


241 


now stood very erect, looking down upon him, as it 
seemed. 

He had no wish to defy her, he had no wish to hasten 
the end, but he could not help asking : 

What would you do if I chose to sneer at him and 
made you listen to my sneers ? 

I shouldn’t listen to them.” 

You would be obliged to were I base enough to utter 
them.” 

I should go away.” 

Florence, yours is not a very patient love for me.” 

It’s better than a patient, unrepining, unexacting love 
would be for you. Jack. It’s a love that only deals with 
what is manly and fine about you. When you step down 
from the pedestal nature meant you to stand upon, I step 
away from you.” 

He did not like to tell her that she had placed him upon 
a pedestal in her imagination for which he had never been 
designed by nature, who knew better. The longing to 
make the best of things while they lasted was upon him, 
and he gratified it, as he had always been accustomed to 
gratify his longings all his life. 

Don’t stop away from me, even fora moment. You’re 
looking very sweet and pretty to-night, Flo. I’ll promise 
anything you please when you look like that at me. I’ll 
go and call on Uncle Joe to-morrow, and entreat him to 
do me the honor of staying in my home instead of an 
hotel where he’s not comfortable ; and you shall repay me 
by letting me take you on the river and giving you a 
dinner at Richmond.” 

‘^Oh, no. Uncle Joe will come if you ask him, and I 
must stay at home and entertain him, and you ought to 
stay with him too, for one evening, at least.” 

My dear child, that’s pressing me a little too hard.” 

Why, all the grace will go from your invitation unless 
you stay at home to welcome the coming guest, Jack.” 


242 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


That’s one of your absurd country notions. How on 
earth should I get through an evening with him ? No ! If 
he comes he’ll be happier to have you to himself, and I’ll 
dine at the club.” 

Leaving me to face him with the fact of my husband 
not thinking it worth his while to show common courtesy 
to his country-bred wife’s relations. Do you know, I am 
sorry to say he has got that idea already. Jack. He 
thinks you’re either ashamed of him or ” 

She paused in a sudden confusion that stung him even 
more than the unspoken words would have done. 

Or afraid of him. Is that what he prompted you to 
say to me ?” 

The studied sternness of his voice did not conceal from 
her that he was more than hurt and offended. He was 
startled also, and she saw it. 

You don’t mean that you are ? Oh, Jack ! ” 

That I am what — disgusted with Mr. Cadly for in- 
spiring you with such contemptible suspicions ? I am 
that undoubtedly.” 

It wasn’t that alternative that Uncle Joe suggested. It 
M^as your own word and your look that I answered. 
Uncle Joe only said that you were either ashamed of him 
or of yourself for having married me, and in the event of 
either being the case he wouldn’t come here unless you 
went to him and showed by the way you asked him to 
your house that he was mistaken.” 

‘‘ You’re sure that’s all he said ? ” 

He said many more things, naturally, but I can’t re- 
member half of them.” 

There was silence for a few moments while she taxed 
her memory with the effort to find something inoffensive 
that Uncle Joe had said which it might be safe to repeat 
to her rather irritable auditor. At last she began with an 
air of relief. 

‘‘Oh, yes. One thing he told me that I’m sure you’ll 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


243 


be glad to hear. Mother's old friend, Mrs. Raymont, has 
made him such a good offer for a handsome, safe, well- 
broken Dartmoor pony for a little boy to ride. Uncle Joe 
happens to have the very thing just out of the breaker's 
hands. 

Has Mrs. Raymont any children ? " 

“No. It's for that dear little man who came here with 
his mother the other day, I fancy. Uncle Joe has only 
heard it's wanted for a little boy ; but knowing how de- 
voted Mrs. Raymont is to Mrs. Twysden I feel sure the 
pony is meant for little Jack." 

“ That woman is not going to have the impertinence to 
give the boy a pony, I hope.” 

“ Now why should you hope anything about it. Jack? 
You hardly know Hhat woman,’ as you call dear Mrs. 
Raymont, and you don't know the little boy at all. Why 
shouldn't she give him a pony if she likes and his mother 
likes him to take it ? " 

He had forgotten caution in his momentary surrender 
to irritable indignation, but Florence’s evident surprise at 
the emotion he had displayed recalled him to himself. 

“ Certainly I know of no reason against it except the 
natural distaste I should feel myself to your milliner giving 
our boy, if we had one, a pony." 

“ How often must I remind you that Mrs. Raymont is a 
gentlewoman first and before all things, and a milliner 
secondly. How jolly the little boy will look on that little 
brown, won't he ? The brown is a perfect model little 
horse, you know, and the boy is so pretty. I wish you'd 
seen him, for I've made up my mind that he's the boy Mrs. 
Raymont wants the pony for.” 

She was so amused by her topic and by the word-picture 
she had painted of the pretty boy on the pony, with whom 
she was so familiar, that she did not notice the grey hope- 
less expression which settled down on Mr. Phillipps’ face 
as she told him she wished he had seen the boy who was 
pretty. 


244 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


His answering remark seemed to her to be entirely 
irrelevant , 

‘‘ Poor little fellow ! Poor little chap ! ” he said. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

WORSE THAN WIDOWED. 

Mr. Phillipps had not indulged in any vain hopes of a 
meeting of either a pacific or pleasing nature with Uncle 
Joe. He had felt a conviction which almost amounted to 
a certainty that the old man was entertaining some foul 
suspicion of his niece’s husband which he had come up to 
town determined to sift to the bottom and verify, should 
it be capable of verification. 

At the same time his niece’s husband took this poor 
comfort to his heart, namely, that Florence’s irascible old 
relative would never do anything that would disgrace and 
humiliate her publicly. As Violet was restrained from 
exposing him by her love for little Jack, so would the 
rough old colt breeder be by his love for his niece. Still, 
for all the assurance he felt with regard to his own ulti- 
mate safety, Mr. Phillipps-Twysden cut but a sorry figure 
even in his own eyes as he went into Mr. Cadly’s presence. 

Uncle Joe was in the library looking at the Times. He 
had told himselt that he would wait till twelve o’clock, 
and if ‘‘ the fellow ” (he called the man he suspected no 
harder name than that) did not turn up by that time, Mr. 
Cadly had determined to consult a clearer and less preju- 
diced head than his own on the matter that was troubling 
him so heavily. 

But before the clock struck twelve 'the man who had 
taken Joe Cadly’s niece from him "'came striding into the 
room with no outward sign of culpability or contrition 
about him, and Uncle Joe’s heart hardened involuntarily. 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


245 


Good morning, Mr. Cadly,” the visitor began cheer- 
fully, almost jauntily. ‘‘ I have come, very gladly too, at 
my wife’s request to carry you off home with me. We 
can’t think of allowing you to remain here.” 

‘‘We’ll have our conversation in a private room, sir.” 

Though Mr. Phillipps’ heart stood still at the manner 
and the tone of the old chawbacon whom he was conde- 
scending to, he followed him to the private room without 
a word of remonstrance. 

“You say you’ve come at your wife’s request. I have 
been to Houndell, in Somersetshire, sir. Tell me who 
that other woman is who calls herself your wife ? ” 

For a moment Mr. Phillipps was dumb with rage and a 
crawling sensation throughout his mind and body that 
must surely have been terror. Then he recovered com-- 
mand of at least one of his powers, that of speech, and 
hurled such a mass of invective at Uncle Joe as made that 
worthy old man, who was only accustomed to uncultivated 
rustic blasphemy, shiver. 

When Mr. Cadly had been denounced in every variety 
of way which the fertile fancy of his adversary suggested, 
the latter paused for want of breath, and Uncle Joe took 
up the parable. 

“ Your words are hard and wicked enough, sir, but not 
so hard and wicked as your ways. I found that you were 
the man who had wronged the lady at Houndell, by 
accident, through no prying on my part or tale-telling on 
hers. I was there to show a pony to a little boy, and the 
little boy showed me the likeness of his father. Now, Mr. 
Phillipps, or Mr. Phillipps-Twysden, if that little boy is 
your son, what is my niece ? ” 

For full a minute, and it seemed like an hour to the man 
who was watching him, Phillipps-Twysden stood motion- 
less, his face buried in his hands. Then he raised his 
head and spoke, all trace of defiance gone both from his 
manner and voice. 


246 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


If I give you my word of honor that I will obliterate 
myself, will you spare her — Florence, the knowledge you 
have gained? She is blameless ; she loves me ; let her go 
on thinking me not utterly undeserving of her love. The 
truth would be the cruelest thing you could tell her, for 
my son, the little boy you saw at Houndell, is legitimate 
— his mother is my wife.’^ 

^^You infernal blackguard! You have destroyed my 
poor innocent niece, you 

The old man spluttered and nearly choked in his right- 
eous wrath. As his words died away inarticulately from 
sheer exhaustion, the man he was upbraiding interposed 
humbly : 

‘‘ I am all you declare me to be. I deserve even worse 
things than you would prepare for me if you were Provi- 
dence. But you waste time when you employ it in describ- 
ing and condemning my conduct. Let us both think now 
solely of what will be best for Florence.” 

‘‘She shall never set eyes on you again. I will take my 
poor defiled flower home.” 

“ She is not that,” Phillipps-Twysden interrupted, with 
a roar, stamping his foot on the floor with a force and 
noise that brought an attentive waiter to the keyhole. 
“ She is not that. Spare her a life of shame and remorse I 
Say what you like about me ; say I am dead ; I tell you I 
will obliterate myself ; say what you like about me, only 
spare her.” 

“ That appeal comes very prettily from you, don’t it ? ” 
Uncle Joe said, piteously. “ Spare her I ’tis you that should 
have spared her when she was a good, pure girl, and your 
idle wicked fancy was struck with her. What is she now? 
My God ? My poor child ! What is she now ? ” 

“ As good and pure as she was then. I am the sinner, 
but devil as I’ve been, I have not destroyed her purity or 
taught her familiarity with sin. Let her go on thinking 
herself my wife. You will only break her heart if you tell 
her what I am.” 


THAI' OTHER WOMAN. 


247 

There^s something in that, but you must never see her 
again,” Uncle Joe assented. 

Then he looked cautiously at his enemy, and said com- 
passionately : 

I can’t be your judge, man. You’ve sinned, and 
you’ll suffer for it so long as the Lord lets you cumber the 
earth. There ! Stand up under the consequences of your 
sin. Don’t crouch ; don’t break down just now when the 
courage that has served the devil so well is wanted for a 
better work. Tell me what words of explanation I can 
take to my niece that won’t be lies, for them 1 won’t speak, 
even to save her heart from breaking.” 

Phillipps-Twysden got up from the sofa on which he had 
flung himself a few moments before in despair, and moved 
to a part of the room on which the sun did not shine. 
Unconsciously he avoided light and brightness now. 

Wait for a day or two before you tell her anything,” he 
pleaded. “ I will go away — it doesn’t matter where ; only 
I give you my word of honor — oh ! you doubt that ; but 
don’t doubt ; try to believe — I will never see her again. 
If I saw her once more I should fight to keep her, and she 
would be wounded in the battle, so I won’t fight. From 
this hour I will be dead to her, but you will let me leave 
her so that she’ll never feel the world’s bite and kick.” 

‘‘I can take no money from you for Florence,” Uncle 
Joe said stoutly. 

‘^You know how to do executioner’s work well, Mr. 
Cadly.” 

“ I can’t take your money for her,” the old man repeated 
shaking his head. ‘‘ But if money can keep her from being 
kicked and bitten by the world she shall have plenty from 
me.” 

And you’ll let her think herself my widow ? ” 

‘‘ Mercy, man, you’re not dead yet, and I’m not going 
to tell her that you are. The best I can do for her is to 
make her understand that you’ve offended the law and had 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


24S 

to leave the country. And if ’twould kill her, as you 
think, to know that she wasn’t your wife after all, and that 
you’d tricked and ruined her, why she must go on think- 
ing herself your wife and learn to bear the desertion and 
the rest of the shame.” 

She shall not have to bear it long,” Phillipps-Twysden 
avowed in his agony ; and Uncle "^oe caught the meaning 
of the words. 

Do you mean that you’ll take the life the Almighty 
gave you, and that you’ve so misused, with your own hand ? 
No, no, Mr. Phillipps-Twysden, you won’t square your 
account that way. You look like a man, though you 
haven’t shown much manliness yet. Live like one now. 
Leave a record for the little boy who’s got my brown 
pony that he can speak of to his children when he grows 
up.” 

I deserve to be shot like a dog,” the beaten man cried 
brokenly. 

But we don’t any of us get what we deserve,” Uncle 
Joe said eagerly, and his eyes glistened with pardonably 
weak emotion. ‘^There’s just a few sainted women in 
this world who deserve nothing but good, but they gener- 
ally spoil their chances of getting it by running double 
with a scamp. I mean,” he explained hastily, not desiring 
to kick a man who was down so unmistakably, I mean 
they take others’ burdens on them and suffer for others’ 
sins when they haven’t any of their own. And now, sir, 
as I have to do what I’d sooner die almost than have to 
do. I’ll bid you good-bye, and wish that you may find 
peace in doing better than you’ve done before.” 

Let Florence sell the furniture at least and take what 
it makes.” 

No, no, sir. The furniture and what it makes might 
go for part compensation to the woman you’ve wronged a 
bit less heavily than you’ve wronged my niece. The only 
thing you can do for her is to leave her without a sign of 


THA T OTHER WO MAH, 


249 


you about her. She’ll go back to the old place with me to- 
night, I hope, and time will be her best friend next to her 
mother. But there’s one thing I promise you. If there’s 
any spot on earth where she thinks she’ll be happier than 
at Eastmoor, there I’ll take her. She’ll not have to bear 
any slights or any friendly sneers, for she shan’t stay where 
they’re offered to her. It will be one sin the less to your 
charge that she won’t have to bear no snubs.” 

‘‘ If the day should come that she wishes to be free for 
the sake of some better fellow than myself, tell her that 
she is free ; let her know then that her chain is an imagin- 
ary one.” 

She’ll have had enough of marriage and of men, I 
reckon.” 

‘‘ Still, let me have the poor comfort of hearing you say 
that you’ll tell her the truth if you ever think the truth 
will make her happier.” 

Trust me for that.” 

And now good-bye, Mr. Cadly.” 

He was turning to go when Uncle Joe rose up. 

I’ll not shake your hand,” he said, simply, but I’ll 
give you a parting word that’s better than good-bye. Take 
care of your life. With what’s left, redeem what’s past.” 

A minute later Uncle Joe was alone and Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden was hurrying through the streets, feeling as if all 
men shrank from him, and fancied each moment that his 
progress would be arrested by someone with the legal right 
and might to interrupt his progress to that end which he 
had in view. 

When Uncle Joe reached the house in Regent’s Park he 
found the young mistress of it happily employed in that 
game of post with her household gods, which has such 
charms for many women. In other words Florence was 
altering, revising and improving the appearance of her 
pretty drawing room in order that it might have the charm 
of novelty for her husband when he came back, as a reward 


250 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


for his having pleased her in the matter of calling on 
Uncle Joe. 

She ran to the door to meet the latter when she heard 
his voice and step on the stairs. A flower-pot in one hand 
and a dusting-brush in the other, did not disable her from 
welcoming him with warmth and almost childish hearti- 
ness. 

‘‘ I knew you'd come, you old darling Uncle Joe. I 
knew you wouldn't stand out against Jack, though you did 
against me. Do you like my house ? Don’t you think 
this room is pretty ? You’d never think we were really in 
dingy smoky London, now would you. Uncle Joe?" 

He turned and shut the door behind them gently, 
without giving so much as one glance at the pretty room 
of which she was as proud as a child might have been of a 
new toy. Then he took her firmly by both hands and 
looked at her with such pitying kindness that her heart 
foreboded evil at once. 

Sit steady, and send your heart over the roughest, 
biggest thing you've ever gone at, my girl," he whispered, 
nearly sobbing. ‘^You’ll have to leave the pretty home 
and all it means to you and come back to the old ones, 
who’ll try to bind up your wounds. You'll have to leave 
all you love here, Flo, for the man who married you has 
left you." 

Then he is dead.'’ 

She wrenched herself from her uncle's grasp as she 
uttered her moan. In a moment more she was on her 
knees sobbing, but listening keenly while he made it plain 
to her that she was worse than widowed — left ! ’’ 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


251 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

TRIED BY FIRE. 

It was more than a week since Uncle Joe had dealt out 
his definition and decided that there Vas no alternative for 
Phillipps-Twysden but to relinquish Florence once and for 
ever. 

What he had done with himself in the interim he could 
not have told even if perfect remission here below of all his 
sins had been the price of his ample confession. He sup- 
posed he had gone along living in an ordinary sort of way 
— dressing and dining and going to bed and getting up. 
But he did not feel sure about it. His memory was 
beginning to play him false. The only things he clearly 
remembered, the only things that never slipped out of his 
recollection, were these facts, namely, that he had been a 
blackguard to the only two women whom he had ever loved 
or who had ever loved him, and a fiend of a father to the 
little boy whom he loved so dearly that the words I’d 
give my life any day for little Jack,” were not false, idle 
and vain as were the majority of his utterances. 

He had hung about between his chambers and club — 
going to the latter at such times as he deemed it probable 
the men he knew best would not be there — by day, and at 
night he had gone and looked at the exterior of the house 
where he had lived that brief life of false unstable bliss with 
Florence. 

As a rule the only light in the house came from the 
kitchen windows, but one evening the drawing-room was 
brilliantly illuminated, and the sound of the piano, very 
badly played, fell upon his ears. 

Standing back against the park railings and watching the 


252 


TI/AT OTHER WOMAN, 


shadows that crossed and recrossed the curtained windows, 
he soon came to the conclusion that it was not poor Flor- 
ence and her friends making merry, as he had at first vainly 
imagined. It was evidently a servants’ carouse, and clearly 
it was his duty to interrupt and end it. 

He had his latch-key in his pocket, and in a few moments 
he had let himself in and gained the door of the drawing- 
room. As he did this the thumping and scraping of many 
awkward and untrained feet ceased, and he walked in upon 
an abashed and astonished assemblage of persons who 
were engaged in mopping up their heated inflamed visages 
and drinking his dry champagne out of half-pint tumblers. 

At his first angry exclamation the visitors huddled 
together and slunk out of the room, leaving the cook and 
parlor-maid to explain the situation to the best of their 
ability. 

If he had not been so utterly miserable on his own 
account, the scene would have been full of comedy for him. 
Cook was a large unwrinkled fat round woman of fifty, 
with a certain comfortable comeliness about her that looked 
a flat contradiction of the larcenous proceeding of which 
she was just found guilty. She was also gifted with a loud 
glib Cornish tongue that was always glad to enlarge upon 
or explain any and every circumstance which either con- 
cerned or did not concern her. As she stood now before 
her master, with a bumper of his best champagne in her 
hand, and a gold chain — the gift of a former mythical 
employer — on her black-silk bound breast, the expression 
on her fat, undaunted face was a study. 

‘^You’re welcome as the flowers in May, sir,” she began, 
vnth fawning effusiveness. ‘‘ As Joe said to all callers and 
enquirers, ‘ Don’t tell me that my master, Mr. Phillipps, 
who is a perfect gentleman and not one of your mean, 
prying, sly, half-bred ones, isn’t coming back to his own 
lawful home ; and don’t tell me,’ Joe added, ‘ that my lady, 
Mrs. Phillips, has run away from husband and home and 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 253 

happiness at the word of an old country farmer-like fellow 
that had no gentleman’s ways with him.’” 

Hold your tongue, woman, and send the crew you’ve 
got here about their business before I give you all in charge 
for robbing my cellar and destroying my furniture.” 

They shall go, sir, at once. Not for a moment shall 
anyone stay in the house who isn’t quite agreeable to you j 
though as for robbing your cellar, there’s not one party 
among them who’d demean himself, or herself for the 
matter of that, by drinking wine that wasn’t honestly bought 
and paid for out of my pocket.” 

As she made her bare-face assertion cook bridled and 
drew her short round-about figure up to its fullest height, 
and sniffed defiance at her employer. 

Don’t take the trouble to tell me any lies,” he said 
wearily. Send your thievish tipsy friends away, and 
follow them as soon as you’ve told me what wages are due 
to you and I’ve paid them. I don’t care whether you’ve 
drunk every drop of wine that was left in the cellar or not 
— you look as if you had done it — I only want to get rid 
of the sight and the sound of you ; so understand, you had 
better never apply to me for a character, for I’ll give you 
one you don’t like if you do.” 

‘‘Certainly not, sir; not by no persuasion whatever 
would I compresend — I mean condemeaner — to apply for 
a character to one who was that neglectful of the ’ole dooty 
of man as to absent hisself from his lawful wife and home, 
and go away on the stream, as one may say, of wicious 
pleasure with your this and your that whose not known to 
quiet and ’spectable folks that stays at home and minds their 
own business, and reads pious pamphlets that was written 
for their learning by my Bishop, who held me in that 
esteem that before he died he sent for me to say that mine 
was the best beetroot pickle the Lord had ever permitted 
him to taste. I’m not a boaster, Mr. Phillipps, and I’m not 
a scoffer, and I’m not a wain, wicious woman ; so I sweep 


254 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


the dust off your shoes ere I depart, Mr. Phillipps, and 
may you never know the pangs of an accusive conscience 
which should cut you short in your wickedness, when 
you’re telling an honest widow, who was that prized by 
her Bishop for her beet pickle and other things not worthy 
to be named to sons of Belial, that she — he — don’t do 
accordin’ to what’s right.” 

^‘Go out of the room this instant, and out of the house 
in half an-hour, you drunken old faggot,” he interrupted, 
with more veracity than civility. The truth was as usual 
unpalatable. 

‘‘ Out of the room and your house ! ’Tis my designa- 
tion to go, sir,” she replied with solemnity that was ren- 
dered more impressive by a lurch in his direction that 
made him leap out of her radius in a spasm of angry 
embarrassment. And with one glass towards our parting 
friendship, which was never of my seeking, I leave you.” 

With this sentiment, in tones that ranged with wild and 
fitful velocity from grave to gay, from hiccoughing hilarity 
to solemn efforts to be articulate, cook drifted in a rudder- 
less manner out of the room, and the man who had been 
master there was left alone to contemplate the altered 
sickening moral and physical aspect and atmosphere of all 
things. 

Presently he heard the footsteps of the servant’s depart- 
ing friends, and soon afterwards the parlor-maid, who was 
still sober, came to him for her own and cook’s wages. 
Shortly after that the house was empty and he was out in 
the streets with his heavy thoughts alone — a wealthy home- 
less man. 

Through the long hours of this, which he kept on trying 
to determine should be his last night on earth, he walked 
in an aimless way through miles of unfamiliar streets and 
squares and terraces. He was having views of London 
that he had never looked upon before, and seeing phases 
of life of which he had never dreamt. It was a sort of 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


255 


comfort to him that the whole of the night side of nature 
was not bad. He caught glimpses of human kindness that 
were pathetic in their well-meant inefficacy to remedy the 
evils they approached. He saw tender children on whose 
brows surely the light of God was shining, supporting and 
guiding home the helpless carcases of drunken fathers and 
mothers, whose besetting sin had robbed those homes of 
every human attribute save the imperishable love of their 
children. He saw fleshless creatures in flaunting rags and 
a state of semi-starvation (the sure wages of sin and shame 
when these latter come to be embodied in a form that is 
unattractive and revolting to look upon), sharing their last 
horribly earned shilling with some fellow who had earned 
nothing. He saw doctors and priests wending their way 
with equal haste and zeal to houses that were nearly 
palaces and to hovels where their presence was claimed by 
the sick and the dying. He even saw a kitchen-maid, who 
was supposed by one of the polite fictions current in 
domestic service to be sweeping the area steps in the 
dawning light, turn from the blandishment of Policeman B. 
to give some scraps to a starving dog. 

In spite of all he knew about himself it was borne in 
upon him that there was something besides sin and selfish- 
ness in the poor old world which he was so anxious to 
quit after all. 

There was a hot haze hanging over everything when he 
got himself to the Paddington station the next day and 
took his ticket to the nearest railway point to Houndell. 
It was in his mind that he would go up to the house and 
send some messenger whom he might chance to find by the 
wayside with a note to Violet, asking her if she would let 
him see Jack. He knew so well beforehand what her 
answer would be. He knew she would never intervene 
between him and his boy. But in spite of this knowledge 
he wanted to feel that it would be told after the end had 
come — that the relations between his wife and himself 
were so amicable that she had told the boy to go to him. 


256 


TI/AT OTHER WOMAN, 


It was a pleasant walk from the station to the Houndell 
gates. You could keep by the side of a river along field 
paths the whole way, and to-day the river was bordered 
gloriously with meadow-sweet and yellow flags of wild iris. 
Between these glorious borders of bloom the river ran 
swiftly. He began to think as he walked by and watched 
its rushing waters that the end might as well come here as 
in the Thames. 

Now and again as he walked along he found himself 
trying to foreshadow what he would be feeling when he 
came to this same spot on his walk back to the station. 
Would he ever reach the latter? Would not the tempta- 
tion to end it all be too strong upon him after taking leave 
of little Jack for anything like train-catching and ticket 
taking ? His wanderings during the night had weakened 
him. He could not contemplate without tears the picture 
of the man who should retrace his footsteps by and by 
after that last interview with his little son. 

There was something pathetic in the perfume of the 
meadow-sweet. The same flower grew, he remembered, 
on the bank of that reach of the river which he had 
selected as the most admirable site for the end. He 
gathered a bit of it and put it in his buttonhole, where its 
scent developed to an extent that made him sick and faint 
before he reached the Houndell gates — the gates of his 
wife’s home, which were morally closed to him. 

A little sloping-shouldered lad mounted on a resolute- 
looking donkey was nearly over-balancing himself in his 
efforts to reach the gate-bell as Mr. Phillipps came up. 

Here, you ; you’re ring ” the boy was beginning, 

when he looked again and altered his tone. I’ll send 
’un along the drive, sir, and let ’em know you’re coming,” 
the little Mercury gasped out. Master Jack, he’s always 
a waitin’ for you. He’ll be rare pleased.” 

It was only the voice of a little village lad who knew 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


257 


nothing about him save that he was the father of “ Master 
Jack up at house. Nevertheless he was so overstrained 
by remorse and his last night's vigil that he almost sobbed 
as he said — 

Thank you, my little man ; get on as fast as you can 
and bring Master Jack out to meet me." 

The gate was open now and the boy, urging his donkey 
to its utmost speed with whoop and whack, careered up 
the avenue. As he neared the house he saw his mistress 
and Master Jack come out on to the terrace through the 
window that opened like a door, and full of importance as 
the giver of glad tidings he shouted out before he came up 
close to them — 

Master Jack, your pa's cornin' up the drive.'* 

Run, run to meet him. Jack." 

Violet need not have told him to do it. Jack was out 
of reach of his mother's voice before her last word was 
spoken. Then for a moment she, the injured, insulted, 
deserted wife ; she, the owner of the land on which she 
stood — of the fine old house from which she had just 
issued — hesitated. Should she allow the father of her 
child to feel that his presence was tolerated there simply 
on that ground, or should she bury her wrong for the hour 
and spare him the humiliation he so well deserved ? 

It was only for a moment that she hesitated, then her 
better nature triumphed. 

Go in and tell cook that Mr. Phillipps-Twysden, her 
master, is coming, and will dine here. Perhaps he may be 
able to stay the night. His rooms must be prepared for 
him, tell Coates, while I walk up to meet him." 

So he ain’t run away from her as folks say ? " Cook 
remarked to Coates when the donkey-boy delivered his 
message. Dear life ! If I had a husband who pleased 
hisself away from me till he couldn't please hisself any 
longer and then walked in without so much as with your 

9 


258 


THAT OTHER WOMAH. 


leave, or by your leave, Td let him know that I was a w^ 
man, and not a worm to be trampled on/' 

Anyhow, I’m glad he’s coming,” the more philosophic 
Coates remarked. ‘‘ Twill be better like with a man in the 
house. Pleased enough Master Jack will be, too, for he’s 
always talking about his pa,” she added as she went off 
to see to the airing and ordering of the rooms that had 
always been appropriated to the use of Mr. Phillipps- 
Twysden. 

It must have been wexin’ to him to find that every- 
thing here was left to her instead of him. It wexes most 
men not to have their wives dependent on them like,” 
Cook said to a select audience of kitchen-maid and donkey- 
boy. 

They both agreed with her heartily, the donkey-boy ad- 
ding a rider to the effect that ’tworn’t natural that the 
missus should be master,” and that he seemed as nice 
a gentleman as he (the speaker) would care to live with.” 

Jack was mounted on his father’s shoulder by the time 
Violet met them. He put the boy down, lifted his hat, 
and waited for her to speak. 

Intuition told her that Florence — that other woman — 
had left him, and that he had come here solely to see his 
boy, with no hope of gaining her forgiveness. Perhaps he 
did not care to have it. Perhaps he only despaired of 
winning it. Perhaps — she could not conjecture further ; 
she could tell herself what she wished. She only felt that 
something must be done to relieve the excruciating awk- 
wardness of the moment. 

I am glad you have come,” she began, holding out her 
hand to him. Run up to the house, Jack, and come 
back to meet us on the donkey. I will walk up slowly 
with papa.” 

When the strings of a boyish heart are being pulled by a 
long-absent father at one end of an avenue and a donkey 
at the other the struggle may be severe, but it is invariably 


THAT OTHER WOMAH. 


259 


brief, and as invariably it ends in the donkey gaining the 
victory. 

Jack was a very affectionate little boy, but he was also an 
essentially human little boy. He was off before his father 
— who clung to his presence for protection — could interfere 
to detain him. 

‘‘ Violet, you are an angel to look at me, to speak to me. 
I only dared hope that you would let nie see Jack. I 
shouldn’t have forced myself upon you if — if things were 
as they have been. But I ought to tell you that she, the 
poor girl I have wronged so horribly, has left me — left me the 
same hour she discovered that I had been a scoundrel to 
her.” 

Poor girl. She has more to forgive than I have.’’ 

They walked on in silence for several yards after this. 
Then Violet spoke again. 

No one knows from me — no one will ever know. You 
at least do me that much justice? You feel sure that our 
boy will always love and respect you if he listens to me ? ” 

God bless you, Violet ! ” 

As Jack grows up he must be with you often — as much 
as he is with me ; and when he wants to know what parted 
us he must be told that we quarelled, but he must never, 
never know the cause. It is my right to ask this much 
of you — that you never shame me by letting our boy know 
that you loved that other woman better than you did me, 
and that I was jealous of your preference.” 

‘‘ Your terms are too generous.” 

One more question,” she added in a very low tone of 
voice. I am a rich woman. Will that poor girl have 
means that will lift her above and away from the world’s 
hard scornful pity when her parents are no longer able to 
protect and maintain her? If she will not you must help 
me to devise some plan by which I can secure a competence 
to her without her even suspecting from whom it comes.” 

‘‘ As far as money goes she will be well off. I shouldn’t 
dare to help you to aid her in that way.” 


26 o 


T//AT OTHER WO MAH. 


No, you have injured her too deeply. I must find 
some other agent,’' Violet assented, thoughtfully. 

And then another irksome pause would have occurred if 
little Jack had not put in an opportune appearance on the 
donkey. 

Poor Violet had kept up a calm front up to this turn. 
But when she saw her husband running along by the side 
of the happy unsuspicious little son who loved him so well, 
a big lump rose in her throat, and anguish almost paralysed 
her heart as she realised that things were not at all as they 
seemed to the child. Then another phase of feeling 
supervened, and her soul rose in indignant revolt at the 
rememberance of that heartless fickle villainy of his which 
had placed them all in such a miserable false position. 

This walk of a quarter of a mile up the avenue with 
him alone had been difficult and trying enough. How 
should she get through the remainder of the day in his 
estranged company without dying in spirit from pain and 
awkwardness and constraint ? She prayed for the blessed 
peaceful night to come, when he would surely relieve her 
of a presence that was so exquisitely painful to her that 
she knew it must still be dear. 

When they had dined — still having little Jack with them 
because each dreaded being alone with the other — he 
went away. Jack clinging to him to the last, and by so do- 
ing sadly weakening that resolution of his to bring the 
end about speedily ; and at parting Violet touched his 
hand, and suffered him to press his lips to her forehead in 
response to Jack’s order that Papa should kiss mamma 
too.” 

Then he went away feeling that he should never see them 
again. 

Violet sat up late that night. For two or three hours 
after the rest of the household were in bed she sat up 
reading and trying to forget her husband. When at 
length her head touched the pillow she was asleep within 


THAT OTHER WO MAH. 


261 


five minutes, but her unhappiness and the pathos of it 
pursued her into dreamland. 

She had been in bed about an hour when something 
horribly heavy pressed down upon her and tried to choke 
her. Waking with a painful effort to scream she found 
the atmosphere dense with smoke save where brilliant 
tongues of flame were licking round the doors and wood- 
work of the room. Stumbling out of bed, distracted, 
scorched and choking, she made her way towards the 
doorway into the next room where little Jack was sleeping. 
Before she could reach it she fell, and the rest was a 
blank. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

NOT FOUND WANTING. 

By the merest chance Phillipps-Twysden missed the only 
train that stopped for the night at the little Meadsford 
station. There was a clean little public-house close by 
that called itself the “ Meadsford Arms,” and in this he 
was able to secure a tiny bed-room, highly perfumed with 
sweet lavender and cleanliness. He, too, was overstrained 
mentally and physically. His legs shook under him as he 
went upstairs, and his lips quivered nervously as he refused 
all the landlady’s offers of refreshments. 

As he flung himself, still partially dressed, upon the bed, 
he remembered that this — if his resolution held good — 
was his last night on earth. He turned shuddering from 
side to side, striving to force the recollection of his in- 
tention from his mind, and compel sleep to soothe his 
tired brain and aching eyeballs. But do what he would 
he remained more painfully wide awake than he had ever 
been in his life, and at last he rose up and went to the 
window, and looked away over the rivers and meadows to 
Houndell, buried in its woods on the hill side. 


262 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


Looked — but only for an instant. Then just staying to 
put his boots on and fasten them, hatless and coatless he 
rushed out of the inn shouting — 

“ Fire ! fire at Houndell ! Rouse the neighborhood. 
Ten thousand pounds to the savior of my son ! ” 

There were good gallopers in the stable, and in less 
time than it takes to write these words they were bearing 
men seeking the aid of fire-engines to Weston and Clifton. 
Phillipps-Twysden seized the first horse that was led out, 
a high-breasted old hunter, and it bore him straight as an 
arrow to the burning doors of Houndell. 

No one ever knew how he did it, for the staircase was 
in sheets of flame, but presently he was seen by the ser- 
vants (who had saved themselves with commendable 
forethought, and were howling hopelessly and helplessly 
on the terrace) with a huge bundle in his arms. 

He had found his wife and child together, and made 
Violet understand that he would save both if she sur- 
rendered all independent action and clung to him. Then 
he wrapped Jack in a thick rug, and guiding Violet through 
the blinding smoke over the burning floors he reached 
a window, and made the group huddled below grasp the 
fact that a ladder must be planted to reach up to it. 

When this was done Violet made her fainting voice 
heard. 

Go first with Jack,^’ she panted. 

But he compelled her to go out, while he wrapped Jack 
tighter in the thick woolen rug. Then, when she was in 
safety outside on the ground, he stepped out, the flames 
seeming to envelope him from head to foot. As he neared 
the bottom he flung the boy into arms that were open to 
receive him. Then there was a collapse of ladder and 
man, and before water could quench the flames that raged 
round him the end had come for Phillipps-Twysden. 

But not a hair of little Jack’s head was singed, not an 
inch of his dear delicate skin was scorched. As Violet 


THAT OTHER WOMAN, 


263 


always taught him, “ His father loved him so that he had 
given his life for his boy, and her own heart added that he 
had nobly redeemed his errors. 

The journals of the day rang with the story. His hero- 
ism, his devotion to wife and child, were the themes of the 
hour. 

Florence Arle, reading the report of how he died, held 
up her head triumphantly and defied them to say he was 
not worthy of the love of woman. She was so proud of 
his bravery and the sacrifice of his life for his little son 
that she quite forgave him that impious love for herself 
which had led him on to ruin her. She sent crosses and 
wreaths to put on his coffin, and wore mourning for him 
that was only a shade less deep than Violet’s. And while 
she did these things some people who had looked askance 
at and scouted her before were startled with admiration 
and respect for her. 

Houndell House was burnt to the ground, but in its 
ruins Violet found a thing of such value that it comforted 
her for the rest of her days, and this was the fact that after 
all her husband had loved his son better than his life. 

And now,” said Lady Susan, when she had read the 
report of Phillipps-Twysden’s ghastly, gallant end — “ and 
now, Lionel, Violet is a free woman ? ” 

‘‘Yes, she is, poor thing.” 

“ And you are a free man, my dear friend. Thank God 
mamma hadn’t hustled you into a marriage with me before 
this catastrophe. Violet will value you now.” 

“ You surely can’t imagine that I can take my freedom ? ” 

“ But I insist upon giving it to you. I force you back 
into the position of the faithful knight who will live and 
die for the love of one lady.” 

He fought against accepting the liberty she pressed upon 
him for some time, but not very vigorously. However, 


264 


THAT OTHER WOMAN. 


she admitted no appeal against her decision by telling all 
her friends that the engagement was off between Sir Lionel 
and herself for reasons that made them stauncher friends 
than ever. 

‘^You’ve done it for my sake, I Know, Susan, but he no 
more loves me now than I do him. You have given up 
your happiness for an idea.’' 

About twelve months after Violet said this Sir Lionel 
went down to Eastmoor and took his bride openly in the 
sight of all who knew her from the hands of her uncle, 
old Joe Cadly, the horse-breeder. 

Lady Susan had not sacrificed her happiness for an 
idea ” but for Florence Arle. 


THE END. 



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